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T. Becket, 1777 - 83 pages
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Page 83 - And thought my way was all through fairy ground, Beneath thy azure sky, and golden sun, Where first my Muse to lisp her notes begun! While pensive Memory traces back the round, Which fills the varied interval between ; Much pleasure, more of sorrow, marks the scene.
Page 5 - At eve within yon studious nook, I ope my brass-embossed book, Portray'd with many a holy deed Of martyrs, crown'd with heavenly meed : Then, as my taper waxes dim, Chant, ere I sleep, my measured hymn ; And at the close, the gleams behold Of parting wings bedropt with gold.
Page 59 - Richard ploughs the deep ! Tremble, watchmen, as ye spy From distant towers, with anxious eye, The radiant range of shield and lance Down Damascus...
Page 4 - The beechen cup, unstained with wine — I scorn the gay licentious crowd, Nor heed the toys that deck the proud. Within my limits, lone and still, The blackbird pipes in artless trill; Fast by my couch, congenial guest, The wren has wove her mossy nest ; From busy scenes and brighter...
Page 11 - Thy fix'd resolve renews each firm decree That made, that kept of yore, thy country free. Call'd by thy voice, nor deaf to war's alarms, Its willing youth the rural empire arms : Again the lords of Albion's...
Page 8 - And awful shapt'B of leaders and of kings, People the busy mead, Like spectres swarming to the wizard's hall ; And slowly pace, and point with trembling hand The wounds ill-cover'd by the purple pall. Before me Pity seems to stand, A weeping mourner, smote with anguish sore To see Misfortune rend in frantic mood His robe, with regal woes embroider'd o'er. Pale Terror leads the visionary band, And sternly shakes his sceptre, dropping blood.
Page 11 - With juft regard, to grace heroic reigns, Where could her glance a theme of triumph own So dear to fame as GEORGE'S trophied throne...
Page 47 - Forbear, fond bard, thy partial praise ; Nor thus for guilt in specious lays The wreath of glory twine: In vain with hues of gorgeous glow Gay Fancy gives her vest to flow, Unless Truth's matron-hand the floating folds confine.
Page 12 - ... or purfue The phantom favours of the cringing crew : More ufeful toils her ftudious hours engage, And fairer leflbns fill her fpotlefs page ; Beneath ambition, 'but above difgrace, With nobler arts...
Page 75 - Gan the gray mist with orient purple stain, Or Evening glimmer'd o'er the folded train : Her fairest landscapes whence my Muse has drawn, Too free with servile courtly phrase to fawn, Too weak to try the buskin's stately strain : Yet now no more thy slopes of beech and corn...

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