The Suffolk Garland: Or, A Collection of Poems, Songs, Tales, Ballads, Sonnets, and Elegies, Legendary and Romantic, Historical and Descriptive, Relative to that County: And Illustrative of Its Scenery, Places, Biography, Manners, Habits and Customs (Google eBook)

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James Ford
John Raw; sold also by Longman, 1818 - English literature - 404 pages
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Page 28 - Where other cares than those the Muse relates, And other shepherds dwell with other mates ; By such examples taught, I paint the Cot, As Truth...
Page vi - Cowley: so, on the contrary, an ordinary song or ballad, that is the delight of the common people, cannot fail to please all such readers as are not unqualified for the entertainment by their affectation or ignorance; and the reason is plain, because the same paintings of nature which recommend it to the most ordinary reader, will appear beautiful to the most refined.
Page 273 - Her pure and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, That one might almost say her body thought.
Page 141 - She turn'd it stopt ! nought could she see Upon the gloomy plain ; But, as she strove the Sprite to flee, She heard the same again. Now terror seized her quaking frame ; For, where the path was bare. The trotting Ghost kept on the same : She mutter'd many a pray'r.
Page 377 - Yet Plenty reigns , and from her boundless hoard, Though not one jelly trembles on the board, Supplies the feast with all that sense can crave; With all that made our great forefathers brave, Ere the cloy'd palate countless flavours tried, And cooks had Nature's judgment set aside.
Page 271 - Divines and dying men may talk of hell, But in my heart her several torments dwell.
Page 28 - There poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil ; There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil ; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf; O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade, And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade...
Page 378 - Here once a year Distinction low'rs its crest, The master, servant, and the merry guest, Are equal all; and round the happy ring The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling, And, warm'd with gratitude, he quits his place, With sun-burnt hands and...
Page 115 - Pray, sir, did you not send for me," By such a messenger ? said she : Which made his hair stare on his head, As knowing well that he was dead. " Where is he ? " then to her he said ; " He's in the stable," quoth the maid. " Go in," said he, " and go to bed ; " I'll see the horse well littered.
Page 155 - O'er these waves for ever mourning Shall we roam deprived of rest, If to Britain's shores returning You neglect my just request ; After this proud foe subduing, When your patriot friends you see, Think on vengeance for my ruin, And for England shamed in me!

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