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beauty beneath bids blest boast breath call'd cause charms Cowper Dagon dark delight design'd divine dream e'er earth ease ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fancy fear feel fire flow'rs folly fool form'd frown give glory grace hand happy hast heart heav'n heav'nly honour hope hour John Gilpin labour land light live lyre mankind mercy mind Moličre muse nature never night nymph o'er once palęstra peace pity pleasure poet poet's pow'r praise pray'r pride prize proud prove red vengeance rest rude sacred sapience scene scorn seem'd shepherd's rod shine sight skies slave smile song soon soul sound spleen stamp'd stand stream sweet taste telescopic eye thee theme thine thou thought toil tongue trifler truth Twas Unwin verse Vincent Bourne virtue Voyages pointing waste wind wisdom worth youth
Page 360 - Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock.
Page 235 - My panting side was charged, when I withdrew, To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. There was I found by One who had himself Been hurt by the archers.
Page 345 - Well done !" As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin — who but he ; His fame soon spread around — He carries weight, he rides a race, 'Tis for a thousand pound.
Page 197 - Of neighb'ring 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.
Page 165 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Page 347 - And gallop'd off with all his might, As he had done before. Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig; He lost them sooner than at first, For why — they were too big. Now mistress Gilpin, when she saw Her husband posting down Into the country far away, She...
Page 217 - With dripping rains, or wither'd by a frost, I would not yet exchange thy sullen skies, And fields without a flower, for warmer France With all her vines ; nor for Ausonia's groves Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bowers.
Page 487 - That pitiless perforce, They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind. Some succour yet they could afford; And, such as storms allow, The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delayed not to bestow.
Page 346 - But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there ; For why? his owner had a house Full ten miles off at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still. The...