The Works of the British Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 9 (Google eBook)

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Robert Anderson
Arch, 1795 - English poetry
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Page 144 - I'll venture for the vole.) Six deans, they say, must bear the pall : (I wish I knew what king to call.) Madam, your husband will attend The funeral of so good a friend.
Page 215 - Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain.
Page iii - To God the Father, God the Son, And God the Spirit, three in one, Be honor, praise, and glory given, By all on earth, and all in heaven.
Page 543 - Beautiful in various dyes : The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, The yellow beech, the sable yew, The slender fir, that taper grows, The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs.
Page 13 - Now angry Somerset her vengeance vows On Swift's reproaches for her From her red locks her mouth with venom fills, And thence into the royal ear instils. The queen, incensed, his services forgot, Leaves him a victim to the vengeful Scot. Now through the realm a proclamation spread* To fix a price on his devoted head; "While, innocent, he scorns ignoble flight, His watchful friends preserve him by a sleight.
Page 516 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
Page 513 - Till, faint and weak, Secander thus began : SECANDER. O stay thee, Agib, for my feet deny, No longer friendly to my life, to fly. Friend of my heart, O turn thee <* Trace our sad flight through all its length of way...
Page 188 - Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot...
Page v - Sleep, my babe; thy food and raiment, House and home, thy friends provide; All without thy care or payment: All thy wants are well supplied. How much better thou'rt attended Than the Son of God could be, When from heaven He descended And became a child like thee! Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.
Page 518 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still The pensive Pleasures sweet Prepare thy shadowy car.

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