A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands: With Notes

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J. Dodsley, 1782
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Page 300 - ... verum ubi plura nitent in carmine, non ego paucis offendar maculis, quas aut incuria fudit aut humana parum cavit natura.
Page 257 - While partial Fame doth with her blasts adorn Such deeds alone as pride and pomp disguise; Deeds of ill sort, and mischievous emprize...
Page 227 - Wide and wider spreads the vale, As circles on a smooth canal ; The mountains round, unhappy fate! Sooner or later, of all height, Withdraw their summits from the skies...
Page 230 - As yon summits soft and fair, Clad in colours of the air Which to those who journey near Barren, brown and rough appear: Still we tread the same coarse way; The present's still a cloudy day.
Page 213 - The drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, For we that live to please, must please to live.
Page 352 - Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit ; As musing slow I hail Thy genial loved return. For when thy folding-star * arising shows His paly circlet, at his warning lamp The fragrant Hours, and Elves 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.
Page 351 - 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 265 - And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. But ah ! what pen his piteous plight may trace ? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his disguised face ? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain ? The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain...
Page 211 - WHEN Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes First rear'd the stage, immortal Shakespeare rose; Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new: Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toil'd after him in vain. His powerful strokes presiding truth impress'd, And unresisted passion storm'd the breast.
Page 227 - In all the hues of heaven's bow, And, swelling to embrace the light, Spreads around beneath the sight.

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