A Collection of Eighteenth Century VerseMargaret Lynn Macmillan, 1907 - 484 Seiten |
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Seite 14
... her head , The tuneful voice was heard from high , " Arise , ye more than dead . " Then cold , and hot , and moist , and dry , In order to their stations leap , And Music's power 14 Eighteenth Century Verse A Song for St Cecilia's.
... her head , The tuneful voice was heard from high , " Arise , ye more than dead . " Then cold , and hot , and moist , and dry , In order to their stations leap , And Music's power 14 Eighteenth Century Verse A Song for St Cecilia's.
Seite 16
... voice can reach , The sacred organ's praise ? Notes inspiring holy love , Notes that wing their heavenly ways To mend the choirs above . VII Orpheus could lead the savage race ; And trees unrooted left their place , Sequacious of the ...
... voice can reach , The sacred organ's praise ? Notes inspiring holy love , Notes that wing their heavenly ways To mend the choirs above . VII Orpheus could lead the savage race ; And trees unrooted left their place , Sequacious of the ...
Seite 33
... Voice , sweet Harbinger of Spring ! This Moment is thy Time to sing , This Moment I attend to Praise , And set my Numbers to thy Lays . Free as thine shall be my Song ; As thy Music , short , or long . Poets , wild as thee , were born ...
... Voice , sweet Harbinger of Spring ! This Moment is thy Time to sing , This Moment I attend to Praise , And set my Numbers to thy Lays . Free as thine shall be my Song ; As thy Music , short , or long . Poets , wild as thee , were born ...
Seite 45
... sings within thy bow'r ! Then might my voice thy list'ning ears employ , And I those kisses he receives enjoy . And yet my numbers please the rural throng , 25 30 35 40 45 55 50 Rough satyrs dance , and Pan applauds the Summer 45.
... sings within thy bow'r ! Then might my voice thy list'ning ears employ , And I those kisses he receives enjoy . And yet my numbers please the rural throng , 25 30 35 40 45 55 50 Rough satyrs dance , and Pan applauds the Summer 45.
Seite 73
... voices strike the skies . No common weapons in their hands are found , Like gods they fight , nor dread a mortal wound . So when bold Homer makes the gods engage , And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage ; ' Gainst Pallas , Mars ...
... voices strike the skies . No common weapons in their hands are found , Like gods they fight , nor dread a mortal wound . So when bold Homer makes the gods engage , And heav'nly breasts with human passions rage ; ' Gainst Pallas , Mars ...
Inhalt
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Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Absalom and Achitophel Balclutha bards BAUCIS AND PHILEMON beams beauty beneath bless bonnie Braes of Yarrow breast breath busk Carthon cease to sigh charms cheerful Clessámmor clouds crown dark death delight Dryden Dunciad ev'ry eyes fair fame fate fear Fingal flowers frae grace grave green Grongar Hill groves hand hear heart heaven heroic couplet hill Jenny king labour Lochaber Look lyre maid maun mighty mind morning mourn Muse ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er passions plain pleasure poem Pope Pope's Popish Plot pow'r praise pride proud redemption draweth nigh rise Robin Gray round satire scene shade shine sing skies smile soft song sorrow soul sound spread strain swain sweet Swift tear thee thou thought toil trembling Twas vale verse voice wave weep Whig wild wind ye Britons youth ΙΙΟ ΙΟ
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 85 - 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,
Seite 323 - 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...
Seite 254 - 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.
Seite 322 - 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.
Seite 253 - 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.
Seite 325 - 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...
Seite 326 - 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...
Seite 318 - 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...
Seite 321 - 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...
Seite 250 - 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...