Poems on Several Occasions

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Hamilton, Balfour and Neill, 1754 - English poetry - 181 pages
 

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Page 111 - Tis thine, alas ! eternal fcorn to prove, Nor feel one gleam of comfort warm thy heart. But, if my fair this cruel law impofe, Pleas'd, to her will I all my foul refign, To walk beneath the burden of my woes, Or fink in death, nor at my fate repine. Yet...
Page 7 - Here multitudes of various beings ftray, Crowd the profound, or on the furface play : Tall navies here their doubtful way explore, And ev'ry product waft from...
Page 20 - And kindle endless day. If from thy sacred paths I turn, Nor feel their griefs, while others mourn, Nor with their pleasures glow ; Banish'd from God, from bliss, and thee, My own tormentor let me be, And groan in hopeless woe.
Page 3 - Assault the basis of the firm machine. At thy Almighty voice old Ocean raves, Wakes all his force, and gathers all his waves ; Nature lies mantled in a wat'ry robe, And...
Page 125 - Distinguish'd every hour with new delight ? Ah ! where that virtue, which, amid the storms, The mingled horrors of tumultuous life, Untainted...
Page 150 - THE AUTHOR'S PICTURE. While in my matchless graces wrapt I stand, And touch, each feature with a trembling hand ; Deign, lovely self ! with art and nature's pride, To mix -the colours, and the pencil guide. Self is the grand pursuit of half mankind ; How vast a crowd by self, like me, are blind!
Page 5 - Up the fteep hill afcends the nimble doe, While timid conies fcour the plains below, Or in the pendent rock elude the fcenting foe. HE bade the...
Page 111 - ... While soul-dissolving sighs my bosom strain, And all my being sinks oppress'd with pain; Deign you, whose souls, like mine, are form'd to know The nice poetic sense of bliss and woe; To these sad accents deign a pitying ear : Strong be our sorrow, as the cause severe. O Pope, what tears thy obsequies attend! Britain a bard deplores, mankind a friend : For thee, their darling, weep th...
Page 125 - Dejecting prospect ! soon the hapless hour May come ; perhaps this moment it impends, Which drives me forth to penury and cold, Naked, and beat by all the storms of heaven, Friendless and guideless, to explore my way; Till, on cold earth, this poor unsheltered head Reclining, vainly from the ruthless blast Respite I beg, and in the shock expire.
Page 26 - Cursed with unnumbered groundless fears, How pale yon shivering wretch appears ! For him the daylight shines in vain, For him the fields no joys contain; Nature's whole charms to him are lost, No more the woods their music boast...

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