A Collection of Poems in Four Volumes, Volume 2 |
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Arno's vale beauty Behold beneath bleffings bleft blifs bloom bofom bower breaſt breathe brow charms cloſe croud crown'd Dæmon defcend delight deſpair doth ECLOGUE erft facred fair fame fate fcene fhade fhall fhepherds fhines fhore fhould fide figh filent filver Finedon fing firft fleep fmile foft folemn fome fong fons foon footh forrow foul ftands ftill ftream fuch fwains fweet glow Goddeſs grace grove hand heart heaven JOHN DOLBEN laft loft lov'd Lycon lyre maid MATTHEW BARNARD meaſure Mufe muſt numbers nymph o'er paffion peace plain pleaſe pleaſure praiſe pride raiſe reft rife rofe round ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhine ſkies ſky ſmile ſpread ſpring ſtand ſteps ſweet tear thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thouſand thro throne toil train truth vale Virtue voice waft whofe whoſe wild youth
Popular passages
Page 2 - Grac'd with soft arts, the peopled world around,! The morn that lights you, to your loves...
Page 25 - Push'd by a wild and artless race From off its wide ambitious base, When Time his northern sons of spoil awoke, And all the blended work of strength and grace, With many a rude repeated stroke, And many a barbarous yell, to thousand fragments broke.
Page 43 - He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, And with a withering look The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe.
Page 35 - The band, as fairy legends say, Was wove on that creating day . When He, who call'd with thought to birth...
Page 32 - On whom that ravening brood of Fate, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait ; Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, And look not madly wild, like thee ? EPODE. In earliest Greece, to thee, with partial choice, The grief-full Muse addrest her infant tongue ; The maids and matrons, on her awful voice, Silent and pale, in wild amazement hung.
Page 36 - Of rude access, of prospect wild, Where, tangled round the jealous steep, Strange shades o'erbrow the valleys deep, And holy Genii guard the rock, Its glooms embrown, its springs unlock, While on its rich ambitious head, An Eden, like his own, lies spread.
Page 32 - Vengeance, in the lurid air, Lifts her red arm, expos'd and bare: On whom that ravening brood of Fate, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait: Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, And look not madly wild, like thee ? EPODE.
Page 5 - Ye mute Companions of my Toils, that bear In all my Griefs a more than equal Share!
Page 18 - With balmy hands his wounds to bind, And charm his frantic woe, When first Distress, with dagger keen, Broke forth to waste his...
Page 42 - Next Anger rush'd : his eyes on fire, In lightnings, own'd his secret stings : In one rude clash he struck the lyre, And swept with hurried hand the strings.