The poetical works of Robert Blair: containing The grave, etc., to which is prefixed, A life of the author, by Robert Anderson, accompanied by prints, designed and engraved by W. Gardiner

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W. Gardiner, 1802 - 87 pages
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Page 6 - ... (With nettles skirted, and with moss o'ergrown,\ That tell in homely phrase who lie below. Sudden he starts, and hears, or thinks he hears, The sound of something purring at his heels; Full fast he flies, and dares not look behind him, Till, out of breath, he overtakes his fellows, Who gather round and wonder at the tale Of horrid apparition tall and ghastly, That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand O'er some new-open'd grave; and (strange to tell!) Evanishes at crowing of the cock.
Page 5 - Again the screech-owl shrieks : ungracious sound ! -Ill hear no more ; it makes one's blood run chill. Quite round the pile, a row of reverend elms, {Coeval near with that) all ragged show, long lash'd by the rude winds.
Page 3 - Well do I know thee by thy trusty yew, Cheerless, unsocial plant! that loves to dwell 'Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms; Where light-heel'd ghosts, and visionary shades, Beneath the wan cold Moon (as fame reports) Embodied, thick, perform their mystic rounds. No other merriment, dull tree, is thine.
Page xxi - Till out of breath he overtakes his fellows ; Who gather round, and wonder at the tale Of horrid apparition, tall and ghastly, That walks at dead of night, or takes his stand O'er some new-open'd grave ; and (strange to tell !) Evanishes at crowing of the cock.
Page 3 - midst the wreck of things which were; There lie interr'd the more illustrious dead. The wind is up: hark ! how it howls ! Methinks Till now, I never heard a sound so dreary...
Page 20 - By stronger arm belabour'd, gasps for breath Like a hard-hunted beast. How his great heart Beats thick ! his roomy chest by far too scant To give the lungs full play...
Page 8 - Friendship ! mysterious cement of the soul! Sweet'ner of life! and solder of society! I owe thee much. Thou hast deserved from me Far, far beyond what I can ever pay. Oft have I proved the labours of thy love, And the warm efforts of thy gentle heart, Anxious to please.
Page 19 - T' improve those charms, and keep them in repair, For which the spoiler thanks thee not? Foul feeder ! Coarse fare and carrion please thee full as well, And leave as keen a relish on the sense, Look how the fair one weeps ! the conscious tears Stand thick as dew-drops on the bells of flowers : Honest effusion ! the swoln heart in vain Works hard to put a gloss on its distress.
Page xxi - By glimpse of moonshine chequering through the . trees, The school-boy, with his satchel in his hand, Whistling aloud to bear his courage up, And lightly tripping o'er the long flat stones, 60 (With nettles skirted, and with moss o'ergrown,) That tell in homely phrase who lie below.
Page 52 - How calm his exit ! Night-dews fall not more gently to the ground, Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft. Behold him ! in the evening tide of life, A life well spent, whose early care it was His riper years should not upbraid his green : By unperceived degrees he wears away ; Yet, like the sun, seems larger at his setting...

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