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

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J. Dodsley, 1782 - English poetry - 380 pages
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Page 75 - In vain I look around O'er all the well-known ground, My Lucy's wonted footsteps to descry ; Where oft we us'd to walk, Where oft in tender talk We saw the summer Sun go down the sky...
Page 280 - That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage : Lo ! Poverty, to fill the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slow-consuming Age. To each his sufferings : all are men, Condemn'd alike to groan; The tender for another's pain, Th
Page 48 - Seek to be good, but aim not to be great: A woman's noblest station is retreat; Her fairest virtues fly from public sight, Domestic worth, that shuns too strong a light.
Page 286 - Eight times emerging from the flood She mew'd to ev'ry watry God, Some speedy aid to send. No Dolphin came, no Nereid stirr'd: Nor cruel Tom, nor Susan heard. A Fav'rite has no friend! From hence, ye Beauties, undeceiv'd, Know, one false step is ne'er retriev'd, And be with caution bold. Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all, that glisters, gold.
Page 280 - Th' unfeeling for his own. Yet ah ! why should they know their fate ? Since sorrow never comes too late, And happiness too swiftly flies. Thought would destroy their paradise. No more ; where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Page 281 - Hours, Fair Venus' train, appear, Disclose the long-expecting flowers And wake the purple year! The attic warbler pours her throat Responsive to the cuckoo's note, The untaught harmony of Spring: While, whispering pleasure as they fly, Cool Zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky Their gather'd fragrance fling.
Page 32 - A nation here I pity and admire, Whom noblest sentiments of glory fire, Yet taught, by custom's force, and bigot fear, To serve with pride, and boast the yoke they bear : Whose nobles, born to cringe and to command...
Page 83 - O best of wives ! O dearer far to me Than when thy virgin charms Were yielded to my arms, How can my soul endure the loss of thee?
Page 280 - A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of Death, More hideous than their Queen: This racks the joints, this fires the veins, That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo!
Page 278 - Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.

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