The Beauties of the British Poets: With a Few Introductory Observations

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C. Wells, 1831 - English poetry - 395 pages
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Page 152 - GRAY. On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires ; Even from the tomb the voice of nature cries, Even in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th' unhonoured dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance by
Page 152 - hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree, Another came; nor yet "beside the rill, Nor up the lawn nor at the wood was he; \~~ ■ The next with dirges due, in sad array, Approach and read, for thou canst read, the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 68 - have lived long enough: my way of life Is fallen into the sear, the yellow leaf: And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have; but in their stead, Which the poor heart would fain deny, but dare not. Curses, not loud, but deep; mouth-honour, breath,
Page 356 - white on the turf, a.nd cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are
Page 94 - Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread: Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw, Daily devours apace, and nothing said, But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past, That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian
Page 151 - unlettered Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who to dumb forgetfulness a prey, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind ? This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned,
Page 62 - side; His youthful hose well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing.
Page 60 - be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken, and so die. That strain again;—it had a dying fall: 01 it came o'er my ear like the sweet south. That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.
Page 367 - The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan, Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
Page 344 - while they were free, And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger, slave, Or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts:—not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play— Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow— Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. MODERN GREECE.

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