The Poetical Works of William Collins

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Charles Whittingham, 1804 - English poetry - 144 pages
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Page 72 - And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity, at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien, While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head.
Page 71 - tis said, when all were fired, Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired, From the supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of sound,' And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each (for madness ruled the hour) Would prove his own expressive power, FIRST Fear his hand, its skill to try, Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd, he knew not why, E'en at the sound himself had made.
Page 84 - No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No withered witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew; The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew! The red-breast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid : With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.
Page 70 - When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng'd around her magic cell...
Page 73 - When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known...
Page 46 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Page 73 - Pour*d through the mellow horn her pensive soul ; And, dashing soft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels join'd the sound : Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round a holy calm diffusing, Love of peace and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away.
Page 39 - O THOU by Nature taught To breathe her genuine thought, In numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong : Who first, on mountains wild, In Fancy, loveliest child, Thy babe or Pleasure's, nurs'd the pow'rs of song ! Thou who with hermit heart Disdain'st the wealth of art...
Page 20 - Schiraz' walls I bent my way !" Cursed be the gold and silver which persuade Weak men to follow far fatiguing trade ! The lily peace outshines the silver store, And life is dearer than the golden ore ; Yet money tempts us o'er the desert brown...
Page 138 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still, The pensive pleasures sweet Prepare thy shadowy car.

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