A Collection of Eighteenth Century Verse
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appear beauty beneath bless breath bright charms clouds court dark dead death deep eyes face fair fall fame fate fear fields fire give grace grave green grow hand head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour kind king land leave lies light lines live Look mind morning mourn Muse nature never night o'er once pain pass passions period plain play pleasure poem poor Pope praise pride published raise rest rise round rule scene seen shade side sigh sing smile soft song soul sound spread spring stand strain sweet tear tell thee things thou thought Till toil true turns Twas verse voice waves wild wind wish wonder woods youth
Стр. 83 - All nature is but art, unknown to thee ; All chance, direction, which thou canst not see ; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good. And, spite of pride, in erring reason's spite, One truth is clear,
Стр. 321 - Far other aims his heart had learned to prize, More skilled to raise the wretched than to rise. His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain...
Стр. 252 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Стр. 320 - To strip the brook with mantling cresses spread, To pick her wintry faggot from the thorn, To seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn; She only left of all the harmless train, The sad historian of the pensive plain.
Стр. 251 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind ; The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame.
Стр. 323 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view ; I knew him well, and every truant knew...
Стр. 324 - Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad, shall prevail; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear...
Стр. 316 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Стр. 319 - Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose; I still had hopes — for pride attends us still — Amidst the swains to show my...
Стр. 248 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight...