Poems, by Somerville, Pattison, Savage, Broome, and Swift, Issues 80-81

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Page 67 - Ah little think the gay licentious proud, Whom pleasure, power, and affluence surround; They, who their thoughtless hours in giddy mirth, And wanton, often cruel, riot waste; Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain.
Page 67 - Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain. How many sink in the devouring flood, Or more devouring flame. How many bleed, By shameful variance betwixt man and man. How many pine in want, and dungeon glooms ; Shut from the common air, and common use Of their own limbs.
Page 20 - Up springs the lark, Shrill-voiced, and loud, the messenger of morn; Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts Calls up the tuneful nations.
Page 77 - See here thy pictured life ; pass some few years, Thy flowering Spring, thy Summer's ardent strength, Thy sober Autumn fading into age, And pale concluding Winter comes at last, And shuts the scene.
Page 65 - Father of light and life, thou Good Supreme ! O teach me what is good ; teach me Thyself! Save me from folly, vanity, and vice, From every low pursuit; and feed my soul With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure; Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss...
Page 37 - Delightful task ! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot, To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind, To breathe the enlivening spirit, and to fix The generous purpose in the glowing breast.
Page 14 - E'er plough'd for him. They too are temper'd high, With hunger stung and wild necessity, Nor lodges pity in their shaggy breast. But Man, whom Nature form'd of milder clay, With every kind emotion in his heart, And taught alone to weep ; while from her lap She pours ten thousand delicacies, herbs, And fruits, as...
Page 66 - Smoothed up with snow; and, what is land unknown, What water, of the still unfrozen spring, In the loose marsh or solitary lake, Where the fresh fountain from the bottom boils.
Page 44 - Cadenus many things had writ ; Vanessa much esteem'd his wit, And call'd for his Poetic Works ; Meantime the boy in secret lurks. And, while the book was in her hand, The urchin from his private stand Took aim, and shot with all his strength A dart of such prodigious length, It pierc'd the feeble volume through, And deep transtixM her bosom too.
Page 53 - But what success Vanessa met Is to the world a secret yet. Whether the nymph, to please her swain, Talks in a high romantic strain; Or whether he at last descends To act with less seraphic ends; Or, to compound the business, whether They temper love and books together; Must never to mankind be told, Nor shall the conscious Muse unfold.

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