What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
admiration Akenside Akenside's amid ancient appears arms awful bards beauty behold Bishop of Winchester bloom Bloomsbury Square bosom breast breath brow Bucke Charles Townshend charms Daniel Wray darts delight divine dread dwell Dyson Earl of Huntingdon earth eternal fair fame Fancy Fancy's fate fix'd flame flowers genius glory groves hand Hardinge harmonious hath heart heaven honour hope hour human John Milton labours laws letter Lettsom Lord lyre Lyric Poetry majestic Megacles Memoir mind morn mortal Muse Naiads Nature Nature's Nymphs o'er objects passions Physicians Pindar Pleasures of Imagination poem poet poetry pomp praise printed rage Richard Dawes ridiculous sacred says scene scorn shade smiles smiling band song soul strain stream sublime sweet taste thee thine things thou thought thro throne toil tongue Truth vale verse virtue Virtue's voice whate'er youth
Page 10 - O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, » And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of Heaven, O, how canst thou renounce^ and hope to be forgiven ! These charms shall work thy soul's eternal health, And love, and gentleness, and joy,...
Page xviii - Not long ago I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser, in which I propose to give full scope to my inclination, and be either droll or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the humour strikes me; for, if I mistake not, the measure which I have adopted admits equally of all these kinds of composition.
Page 186 - Each passing Hour sheds tribute from her wings ; And still new beauties meet his lonely walk, And loves unfelt attract him. Not a breeze Flies o'er the meadow, not a cloud imbibes The setting sun's effulgence, not a strain From all the tenants of the warbling shade Ascends, but whence his bosom can partake Fresh pleasure, unreprov'd.
Page 125 - Tired of earth And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft Through fields of air, pursues the flying storm, Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens ; Or, yoked with whirlwinds, and the northern blast, Sweeps the long tract of day.
Page 135 - Mind, mind alone, (bear witness, Earth and Heaven !) The living fountains in itself contains Of beauteous and sublime : here, hand in hand, Sit paramount the Graces ; here enthroned, Celestial Venus, with divinest airs, Invites the soul to never-fading joy.
Page 124 - And through the mists of passion and of sense, And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, To hold his course unfaltering, while the voice Of truth and virtue, up the steep ascent Of nature, calls him to his high reward, The applauding smile of Heaven?
Page 187 - Refine at length, and every passion wears A chaster, milder, more attractive mien. But if to ampler prospects, if to gaze On Nature's form, where, negligent of all These lesser graces, she assumes the port Of that eternal majesty that weigh'd . The world's foundations...
Page 248 - Ask the faithful youth Why the cold urn of her whom long he lov'd So often fills his arms ; so often draws His lonely footsteps at the silent hour, To pay the mournful tribute of his tears? Oh ! he will tell thee, that the wealth of worlds Should ne'er seduce his bosom to forego That sacred hour...