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adorn aether ambrosial arms Avara Bard beauteous beauty Bishop of London blatant-beast bliss Bon-vivant bosom bowre breast bright Cave charms cliffs Columbel Cupid dale dark deep dread Edwin Euphormius eyes fair fame Fancy Fancy's Favonius fell flame fled gentle grace grove happy head heart heaven hill hoary hope Jove keen Knight lawns light lonely Lycon lyre maid mind Minstrel mirth morn mortal mote muchel murmuring Muse Nature's ne'er never Nymph o'er pain peace Perdie Phoebus pleasure Poem powre pride Psyche quoth rage rill rise rose forbear round Sage scene seem'd shade shalt shepherd shines sight skie smile song soon sooth soul Spenser spleen Squire of Dames stronds swain sweet tale tear thee thine thou toil truth vale virtue wander wanton warbling ween wend wight wild wings withouten XXVII youth
Page 157 - Hail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast, And woo the weary to profound repose ! Can Passion's wildest uproar lay to rest, And whisper comfort to the man of woes ! Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes, And Contemplation soar on seraph wings.
Page 130 - 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 I X.
Page 143 - O Nature, how in every charm supreme ! Whose votaries feast on raptures ever new ! O for the voice and fire of seraphim, To sing thy glories with devotion due ! Blest be the day I 'scaped the wrangling crew. From Pyrrho's maze, and Epicurus...
Page 160 - Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown, In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome, Where night and desolation ever frown. Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down ; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrown, Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave. And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
Page 168 - Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves ! Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent, Pure in his pleasures, happy in his loves, His eye still smiling, and his heart content. Then, hand in hand, health, sport, and labour went. Nature supply'd the wish she taught to crave.
Page 145 - O cruel ! will no pang of pity pierce That heart, by lust of lucre sear'd to stone ? For sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse, To latest times shall tender souls bemoan Those hopeless orphan-babes by thy fell arts undone.
Page 127 - I who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar...
Page 178 - Warbling at will through each harmonious maze, Was taught to modulate the artful strain, I fain would sing : — but ah ! I strive in vain. Sighs from a breaking heart my voice confound . With trembling step, to join yon weeping train , I haste, where gleams funereal glare around, And, mix'd with shrieks of woe, the knells of death resound. LXII. Adieu, ye lays, that Fancy's flowers adorn, The soft amusement of the vacant mind...