Poems on Several Subjects

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W. Johnston, 1766 - Electronic book - 166 pages
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Page 51 - But if some pilgrim through the glade Thy hallow'd bowers explore, O guard from harm his hoary head, And listen to his lore ; For he of joys divine shall tell That wean from earthly woe, And triumph o'er the mighty spell That chains this heart below. " For me, no more the path invites...
Page 41 - Ambition, outside fair ! within as foul As fiends of fiercest heart below, Who ride the hurricanes of fire that roll Their thundering vortex o'er the realms of woe, Yon naked waste survey ; Where late was heard the flute's mellifluous lay ; Where late the...
Page 51 - For me, no more the path invites Ambition loves to tread ; No more I climb those toilsome heights, By guileful Hope misled : Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more To Mirth's enlivening strain ; For present pleasure soon is o'er, And all the past is vain.
Page 125 - Or while, sublime, on eagle pinion driven, He soars Pindaric heights, and sails the waste of Heaven ? Is this the land, o'er Shenstone's recent urn Where all the Loves and gentler Graces mourn ? And where, to crown the hoary bard of night...
Page 2 - Others more mild, in happy leisure gay, The darkening forest's lonely gloom explore, Or by Scamander's flowery margin stray, Or the blue Hellespont's resounding shore. But chief the eye to Ilion's glories turn'd, That gleam'd along th...
Page 78 - Lest, like the lightning's glance, the sudden ill Flash to confound, and penetrate to kill ; Lest, thus encompass'd with funereal gloom, Like me, ye bend o'er some untimely tomb, Pour your wild ravings in Night's frighted ear, And half pronounce Heaven's sacred doom severe.
Page 81 - And spare the idle weed, yet lop the flower ! Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven ! Is Virtue then no more the care of Heaven ! But peace, bold thought ! be still, my bursting heart ! We, not Eliza, felt the fatal dart.
Page 79 - The fweet effufions of the blamelefs heart; Till all my foul, each tumult charm'd away, Yields, gently led, to virtue's eafy fway. By thee infpir'd, O Virtue, age is young, And...
Page 129 - To show the gloom more hideous for the foil, But not repay the drudging reader's toil ; (For who for one poor pearl of clouded ray Through Alpine dunghills delves his desperate way?) Did genius to thy verse such bane impart? No. 'Twas the demon of thy venom'd heart, (Thy heart with rancour's quintessence endued) And the blind zeal of a misjudging crowd. Thus from rank soil a...
Page 132 - And let the gallows expiate their sin. But when a Ruffian, whose portentous crimes Like plagues and earthquakes terrify the times, Triumphs through life, from legal judgment free, For hell may hatch what law could ne'er foresee; Sacred from vengeance shall his memory rest? Judas though dead, though damn'd, we still detest. SONG, IN IMITATION OF SHAKESPEARE'S ' BLOW, BLOW, THOU WINTER WIND.

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