Bell's Classical Arrangement of Fugitive Poetry ...

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J. Bell, 1790 - Poetry
 

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Page 103 - THY spirit, Independence ! let me share, Lord of the lion-heart and eagle-eye ; Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky.
Page 77 - A thousand widows' shrieks I hear ; " Give me another horse !" I cry, Lo ! the base Gallic squadrons fly ; Whence is this rage ? — — What spirit, say, To battle hurries me away ? 'Tis Fancy, in her fiery car, Transports me to the thickest war, There whirls me o'er the hills of slain, Where Tumult and Destruction reign ; Where, mad with pain, the wounded steed Tramples the dying and the dead : Where giant Terror stalks around, With sullen joy surveys the ground, And, pointing to th...
Page 75 - O lover of the desert, hail ! Say, in what deep and pathless vale, Or on what hoary mountain's side...
Page 145 - Through this still valley let me stray, Rapt in some strain of pensive GRAY: Whose lofty genius bears along The conscious dignity of Song; And, scorning from the sacred store To waste a note on Pride or Power, Roves...
Page 76 - PEACE resort, And VENUS keeps her festive court, Where MIRTH and YOUTH each evening meet, And lightly trip with nimble feet, Nodding their lily-crowned heads, Where LAUGHTER rose-lip'd HEBE leads...
Page 107 - Taste unspoil'd the frugal table spread, And Industry supply the humble store, And Sleep unbribed his dews refreshing shed ; White-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite ! Shall chase far off the goblins of the night, And Independence o'er the day preside, Propitious power ! my patron and my pride ! 120 SONG.
Page 101 - Woe, and groan of grim Despair. Lo, wizard Envy from his serpent eye Darts quick destruction in each baleful glance ; Pride smiling stern, and yellow Jealousy, Frowning Disdain, and haggard Hate advance ; Behold, amidst the dire array, Pale wither'd Care his giant-stature rears, And lo, his iron hand prepares To grasp its feeble prey.
Page 143 - Can Music's voice, can Beauty's eye, Can Painting's glowing hand supply, A charm so suited to my mind, As blows this hollow gust of wind, As drops this little weeping rill, Soft tinkling down the moss-grown hill, While through the west, where sinks the crimson day, Meek Twilight slowly sails, and waves her banners gray?
Page 101 - Who now will guard bewilder'd youth Safe from the fierce assault of hostile rage ? Such war can Virtue wage, Virtue, that bears the sacred shield of Truth ? Alas ! full oft on Guilt's victorious car, The spoils of Virtue are in triumph borne ; While the fair captive, mark'd with many a scar, In long obscurity, oppress'd, forlorn, Resigns to tears her angel form.
Page 74 - O'er all my artless songs preside, My footsteps to thy temple guide, To offer at thy turf-built shrine, In golden cups no costly wine, No murdered fatling of the flock, But flowers and honey from the rock.

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