The Works of the English Poets: With Prefaces, Biographical and Critical, Volume 41, Page 1

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H. Hughs, 1779 - English poetry
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Page 256 - Susan, Susan, lovely dear. My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear; We only part to meet again. Change, as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Page 255 - So the sweet lark, high poised in air, Shuts close his pinions to his breast, (If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,) And drops at once into her nest. The noblest...
Page 7 - To frame the little animal, provide All the gay hues that wait on female pride : Let Nature guide thee ; sometimes golden wire The shining bellies of the fly require ; The peacock's plumes thy tackle must not fail, Nor the dear purchase of the sable's tail. Each gaudy bird some slender tribute brings, And lends the growing insect proper wings...
Page 281 - Almighty word obey'd, Thou wert ; and when the subterraneous flame Shall burst its prison, and devour this frame, From angry Heaven when the keen lightning flies, When fervent heat dissolves the melting skies, Thou still shalt be ; still as thou wert before, And know no change, when time shall be no more. O endless thought ! divine Eternity ! The immortal soul shares but a part of thee ; For thou wert present when our life began, When the warm dust shot up in breathing man.
Page 10 - Around the steel no tortur'd worm shall twine, No blood of living insect stain my line : Let me, less cruel, cast the feather'd hook With pliant rod athwart the pebbled brook, Silent along the mazy margin stray, And with the fur-wrought fly delude the prey.
Page 138 - Cross not with venturous step ; there oft is found The lurking thief, who, while the daylight shone, Made the walls echo with his begging tone : That crutch, which late compassion mov'd, shall wound Thy bleeding head, and fell thee to the ground.
Page 8 - When he with fruitless pain hath skimm'd the brook, And the coy fish rejects the skipping hook, He shakes the boughs that on the margin grow, Which o'er the stream a waving forest throw; When, if an insect fall (his certain guide), He gently takes him from the whirling tide; Examines well his form, with curious eyes, His gaudy vest, his wings, his horns and size.
Page 256 - If to fair India's coast we sail, Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright ; Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, Thy skin is ivory so white. Thus every beauteous object that I view, Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. " Though battle call me from thy arms, Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; Though cannons roar, yet, safe from harms, William shall to his dear return. Love turns aside the balls that round me fly. Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye...
Page 128 - Yet Burlington's fair palace still remains ; Beauty within, without proportion, reigns. Beneath his eye declining art revives, The wall with animated picture lives ; There Handel strikes the strings, the melting strain Transports the soul, and thrills through every vein ; There oft I enter, (but with cleaner shoes,) For Burlington's belov'd by every Muse.
Page 127 - Lifts up his eyes, and hasts to beggar more. Where the brass knocker, wrapt in flannel band, Forbids the thunder of the footman's hand ; Th...

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