Select works of the British poets: with biographical and critical prefaces, Volume 2 (Google eBook)

Front Cover
John Aikin
Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme & Brown, 1821 - English poetry - 807 pages
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Page 290 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired ; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share, That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Page 261 - All is best, though we oft doubt, What the unsearchable dispose Of highest wisdom brings about, And ever best found in the close. Oft he seems to hide his face, But unexpectedly returns And to his faithful champion hath in place Bore witness gloriously...
Page 265 - tis said) Before was never made, But when of old the sons of morning sung, While the Creator great His constellations set, And the well-balanced world on hinges hung ; And cast the dark foundations deep, And bid the weltering waves their oozy channel keep.
Page 126 - They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate With dreadful faces throng'd, and fiery arms. Some natural tears they dropt, but wiped them soon: The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide. They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.
Page 125 - For God is also in sleep, and dreams advise, Which he hath sent propitious, some great good Presaging, since with sorrow and heart's distress Wearied I fell asleep : but now lead on ; In me is no delay; with thee to go Is to stay here ; without thee here to stay Is to go hence unwilling ; thou to me Art all things under heaven, all places thou, Who for my wilful crime art banished hence. This further consolation yet secure I carry hence; though all by me is lost, Such favour I unworthy am vouchsafed,...
Page 208 - Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree? The sun to me is dark And silent as the moon When she deserts the night, Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. Since light so necessary is to life, And almost life itself, if it be true That light is in the soul, She all in every part, why was the sight To such a tender ball as...
Page 135 - When I was yet a child, no childish play To me was pleasing ; all my mind was set Serious to learn and know, and thence to do, What might be public good ; myself I thought Born to that end, born to promote all truth, All righteous things.
Page 85 - O flowers, That never will in other climate grow, My early visitation, and my last At even, which I bred up with tender hand From the first opening bud, and gave ye names; Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank Your tribes, and water from the ambrosial fount?
Page 266 - For, if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back and fetch the age of gold; And speckled Vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould...
Page 263 - And though the shady gloom Had given day her room, The sun himself withheld his wonted speed, And hid his head for shame, As his inferior flame The new-enlightened world no more should need; He saw a greater Sun appear Than his bright throne, or burning axletree, could bear.

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