Saint Anne's Hill: a Poem

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author, 1828 - 39 Seiten

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Seite 25 - And listen'd for the queen of all the quire; Fain would I hear her heavenly voice to sing; And wanted yet an omen to the spring.
Seite 22 - My eye descending from the hill, surveys Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays. Thames, the most loved of all the Ocean's sons By his old sire, to his embraces runs; Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Like mortal life to meet eternity.
Seite 22 - Thames, the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons By his old sire, to his embraces runs ; Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, Like mortal life to meet eternity. Though with those streams he no resemblance hoi*. Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold, His genuine and less guilty wealth t...
Seite 19 - Read Homer once, and you can read no more ; For all books else appear so mean, so poor, Verse will seem prose : but still persist to read. And Homer will be all the books you need.
Seite 15 - THE Star, whose radiant beams adorn With vivid light the rising morn, The season changed, with milder ray Cheers the calm hour of parting day. So Friendship, of the generous breast The earliest, and the latest guest, In youthful prime with ardour glows, And sweetens life's serener close.
Seite 22 - I do hope to recover my late hurt so farre within five or six days (though it be uncertain yet whether I shall ever recover it) as to walk about again. And then, methinks, you and I and the dean might be very merry upon St. Ann's Hill. You might very conveniently come hither the way of Hampton Town, lying there one night. I write this in pain, and can say no more : Verbum sapienti.
Seite 22 - I scarcely ever saw ; so inveterate a rage against even the least appearance of it, as if they meant to defeat even the inherent sanctity of the ground. Of that noble and splendid pile, which took up four acres of ground, and looked like a town, nothing remains ; scarcely a little of the outward wall of the precinctus.
Seite 22 - I left the ruins of this place, which had been consecrated to religion ever since the sixth century, with a sigh for the loss of so much national magnificence and national history. Dreadful was that storm which spared not, at least, the churches, libraries, painted glass, monuments, manuscripts; that spared not a little out of the abundant spoil, to support them for the public honour...
Seite 25 - Cheerful in this sequestered bower, From all the storms of life removed, Here Fox enjoyed his evening hour In converse with the friends he loved. 44 And here these lines he oft would quote, Pleased, from his favourite poet's lay, When, challenged by the warbler's note, There breathed a song from every spray.

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