A collection of original poems, Volume 1

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Printed for A. Donaldson and sold by R. and J. Dodsley and J. Richardson, 1760 - Poetry - 232 pages
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Page 128 - With blessed content has chose to dwell. Behold ! it opens to my sight, Dark in the rock, beside the flood ; Dry fern around obstructs the light ; The winds above it move the wood. Reflected...
Page 217 - Reafon, would he fkip and play ,? " Pleas'd to the laft, he crops the flow'ry " food, " And licks the hand juft rais'd to fhed his
Page 173 - Great as thou wert, four ftoncs with mofs o'ergrown, Thy fole memorial leave thee half unknown ; The lonely tree, where fcarce a leaf we find, The long rank grafs that whittles in the wind, Thefe, and thefe only guide the hunter's eye To find where Morar's mould'ring reliques lie. How low is Morar fall'n ! alas ! how low ! No tears maternal o'er his...
Page 173 - A few white hairs are o'er his temple fpread, His fteps are feeble, and his eyes are red ; Thy fire, O Morar, is the fage I fee, Thy fire, alas ! the fire of none but thee : He heard thy martial fame, fupreme in fight, Of daring foes he heard...
Page 129 - ... And through the chinky hut the beam. Beside a stone o'ergrown with moss, Two well-met hunters talk at ease; Three panting dogs beside repose ; One bleeding deer is stretched on grass. A lake, at distance, spreads to sight, Skirted with shady forests round, In midst an island's rocky height Sustains a ruin once renown'd. One tree bends o'er the naked walls, Two broad-wing'd eagles hover nigh, By intervals a fragment falls, As blows the blast along the sky. ' Two rough-spun hinds the pinnace guide,...
Page 171 - O'er the green hills th' inconftant funfliine flics ; Red thro' the ftony vale with rapid tide, The ftream defcends by mountain fprings fupply'd; How fweet, O ftream, thy murmurs to my ear! Yet fweeter far the tuneful voice I hear; 'Tis...
Page 97 - Whofe leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn ! Sweet, as the downy-pinion'd gale, that roves To gather fragrance in Arabian groves ! Mild, as the ftrains, that, at the clofe of day Warbling remote, along the vales decay ! — — « Yet, why with thofe compar'd ? What tints fo fine, What fweetnefs, mildnefs, can be match'd with thine ? Why roam abroad...
Page 169 - Midft the flain, Where groan'd the dying, welt'ring in their gore, There Connal fell ! the terror of the plain ! There fell the mighty to arife no more ! Thy arm a tempeft from the bellowing main, Thy fword a meteor in the ev'ning-ftcy ; Thy height a rock, that overlook'd the plain ; A glowing furnace was thy wrathful eye.
Page 165 - Midst camps, and clashing arms,, and boisterous, war." Sylvanus came with rural garlands crown'd, And wav'd the lilies long, and flowering fennel round. Next we beheld the gay Arcadian god ; His smiling cheeks with bright vermilion glow'd. " For ever wilt thou heave the bursting sigh ? Is love regardful of the weeping eye ? Love is not cloy'd with tears ; alas, no more Than bees luxurious with the balmy flow'r, Than goats with foliage, than the grassy plain With silver rills and soft refreshing rain.
Page 172 - And in thy hall thy bow unstrung shall lie. Swift wert thou Morar as the bounding roe, As fiery meteors dreadful to the foe. Like winter's rage was thine, in storms reveal'd, Thy sword in fight like light'ning in the field ; Thy voice like torrents swell'd with hasty rains, Or thunder rolling o'er the distant plains; Unnumber'd heroes has thy arm o'erturn'd, In...

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