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beauty beneath betimes boast breath call'd cause charge charms CHISWICK clime delights design'd distant divine dream e'en Earth ease ev'ry fair fame fancy feed feel field of glory flower folly form'd fountain of eternal frown fruits give glory grace grave groves hand happy heart Heaven honour Hosanna human INNER TEMPLE JOHN SHARPE king labour learn'd less live lost lyre mercy Mighty winds mind mischief muse nature Nature's never nymphs o'er once pass'd peace perhaps pleasures plebeian polish'd praise prize proud prove rapture riddance rude rural sacred scene schools scorn seek seem'd shade shine sight slaves sleep sloth smile SOFA song soon soul sound spare stroke sweet task taste thee theme thine thou art toil trembling truth twas virtue waste WILLIAM COWPER wind winter wisdom wise wonder worth youth
Side 32 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Side 154 - No noise is here, or none that hinders thought. The redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes and more than half...
Side 159 - The Lord of all, Himself through all diffused, Sustains and is the' life of all that lives. Nature iS but a name for an effect Whose cause is God.
Side 10 - Of neighbouring fountain, or of rills that slip Through the cleft rock, and chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length In matted grass, that with a livelier green Betrays the secret of their silent course.
Side 10 - Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of ocean on his winding shore...
Side 45 - I would express him simple, grave, sincere ; In doctrine uncorrupt ; in language plain ; And plain in manner. Decent, solemn, chaste, And natural in gesture. Much impressed Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too. Affectionate in look, And tender in address, as well becomes A messenger of grace to guilty men.
Side 157 - And of an humbler growth, the other tall, And throwing up into the darkest gloom Of neighbouring cypress, or more sable yew, Her silver globes, light as the foamy surf That the wind severs from the broken wave...
Side 145 - Till then unfelt, what hands divine have wrought. Brutes graze the mountain-top, with faces prone, And eyes intent upon the scanty herb It yields them ; or, recumbent on its brow, Ruminate heedless of the scene outspread Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away From inland regions to the distant main.