The Poetical Works of the Late Mrs. Mary Robinson: Including Many Pieces Never Before Published. In Three Volumes, Volume 3

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R. Phillips, 1806 - 379 pages

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Page 275 - And bid'st them spreading shine : Thou humm'st thy short and busy tune, Unmindful of the blast ; And careless while 'tis burning noon, How quick that noon be past.
Page 276 - Pavement slippery, people sneezing, Lords in ermine, beggars freezing; Titled gluttons dainties carving, Genius in a garret starving. Lofty mansions, warm and spacious; Courtiers cringing and voracious; Misers scarce the wretched heeding; Gallant soldiers fighting, bleeding.
Page 71 - O ! HOW can LOVE exulting reason quell ! How fades each nobler passion from his gaze ! E'en fame, that cherishes the poet's lays, That fame ill-fated Sappho lov'd so well. Lost is the wretch, who in his fatal spell Wastes the short summer of delicious days, And from the tranquil path of wisdom strays, • In passion's thorny wild forlorn to dwell. O ye ! who in that sacred temple smile Where holy innocence resides...
Page 226 - And the fresh-sprincled pavement cools the feet Of early walkers. At the private door The ruddy housemaid twirls the busy mop, Annoying the smart 'prentice, or neat girl. Tripping with band-box lightly. Now the sun Darts burning splendour on the glittr'ing pane, Save where the canvas awning throws a shade On the gay merchandize.
Page 70 - And my chill'd breast in throbbing tumults rise ? Mute on the ground my lyre neglected lies, The Muse forgot, and lost the melting lay; My down-cast looks, my...
Page 89 - False youth! can other charms attractive prove? Say, can Sicilian loves thy passions move, Play round thy heart, and fix thy fickle eyes, While in despair the Lesbian Sappho dies ? Has spring for thee a crown of poppies wove, Or dost thou languish in th' Idalian grove, Whose altar kindles, fann'd by lovers
Page 76 - O'er which the golden hair luxuriant plays; So, on the modest lily's leaves of snow The proud Sun revels in resplendent rays! Warm as his beams this sensate heart shall glow, Till life's last hour, with Phaon's self decays!
Page 225 - Fruit-barFOWs, aod the hunger-giving cries Of vegetable venders, fill the air. Now ev'ry shop displays its varied trade, And the fresh-sprinkled pavement cools the feet Of early walkers. At the private door The ruddy housemaid twirls the busy mop, Annoying the smart 'prentice, or neat girl, Tripping with band-box lightly.
Page 275 - Then spread thy little shining wing, Hum on thy busy lay ! For man, like thee, has but his spring ; Like thine, it fades away.
Page 78 - Where ciustering boughs with golden citron twine ; While slow vibrations, dying on the breeze Shall soothe his soul with harmony divine ! '. Then let my form his yielding fancy seize, And all his fondest wishes blend with mine.

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