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The Muse's Pocket Companion. a Collection of Poems. by Lord Carlisle [And ...
Nincs elérhető előnézet - 2016
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214. oldal - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
168. oldal - Yes, let the rich deride, the proud disdain. These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm than all the gloss of art.
146. oldal - A wretch forlorn," she cried; "Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude Where Heaven and you reside. " But let a maid thy pity share, Whom love has taught to stray ; Who seeks for rest, but finds despair Companion of her way.
154. oldal - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head, To shame the meanness of his humble shed ; No costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal, To make him loathe his vegetable meal : But calm, and bred in ignorance and toil, Each wish contracting, fits him to the soil.
164. oldal - I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose. I still had hopes, for pride attends us still, Amidst the swains to show my...
155. oldal - Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
166. oldal - But in his duty prompt at every call, He watched and wept, he prayed and felt for all ; And, as a bird each fond endearment, tries, To tempt its new-fledged offspring to the skies, He tried each art, reproved each dull delay, Allured to brighter worlds, and led the way.
213. oldal - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
148. oldal - Turn, Angelina, ever- dear. My charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, Restored to love and thee. "Thus let me hold thee to my heart; And every care resign : And shall we never, never part, My life — my all that's mine ? " No, never from this hour to part, We'll live and love so true, The sigh that rends thy constant heart Shall break thy Edwin's too.