The British poetical miscellanySikes & Company, 1805 |
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Page 4
... Toil , " & c . 34. Addrefs on the Death of Mr. Palmer 35. Paper 36. Sea Side Sonnet 37. The Negro • Samwell . Macartney . Rofcoe . Franklin . Pratt . Mifs Holcroft . 38. On a Friend refufing to fign the Petition , & c . Ryley . VIII ...
... Toil , " & c . 34. Addrefs on the Death of Mr. Palmer 35. Paper 36. Sea Side Sonnet 37. The Negro • Samwell . Macartney . Rofcoe . Franklin . Pratt . Mifs Holcroft . 38. On a Friend refufing to fign the Petition , & c . Ryley . VIII ...
Page 9
... toil ? Sighs muft fan it , tears must water , Sweat of ours muft dress the foil . Think , ye masters iron - hearted ! Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have fmarted , For the fweets your cane affords ! Is there , as ...
... toil ? Sighs muft fan it , tears must water , Sweat of ours muft dress the foil . Think , ye masters iron - hearted ! Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have fmarted , For the fweets your cane affords ! Is there , as ...
Page 11
... toil from day to day for bread , Is greatly rich - His foul feels pure content ; His deeds are noble , and his life well spent ; Betime he feeks repofe , betime awakes , And plods to labour ere the morning breaks : No cares corroding ...
... toil from day to day for bread , Is greatly rich - His foul feels pure content ; His deeds are noble , and his life well spent ; Betime he feeks repofe , betime awakes , And plods to labour ere the morning breaks : No cares corroding ...
Page 5
... toil ere morning light . And well his brain remember'd yet , He never patter'd tow'rds his bed ; Or lodg'd his long face on his cheek , But ftraight he firr'd , or rais'd his head . Yes , he remember'd , and with tears , His loving ...
... toil ere morning light . And well his brain remember'd yet , He never patter'd tow'rds his bed ; Or lodg'd his long face on his cheek , But ftraight he firr'd , or rais'd his head . Yes , he remember'd , and with tears , His loving ...
Page 8
... toil , and late , " Thou foon wouldft drop thy boasted state- " Did I not groan beneath manure , " The equipage would not be fure— " And thould I not the mart attend , 66 Thy dignity would have an end- " I grant thou haft fome little ...
... toil , and late , " Thou foon wouldft drop thy boasted state- " Did I not groan beneath manure , " The equipage would not be fure— " And thould I not the mart attend , 66 Thy dignity would have an end- " I grant thou haft fome little ...
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Common terms and phrases
anguiſh Bad Company behold beneath black crows bleffing bleft bofom breaſt breath BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY caft CHARLOTTE SMITH charms cloſe cold cry'd dear death defpair diftant doft dread dy'd E'en ev'ry eyes facred faid fair fate fcene fear feek feen fhade fhall fhore fhould fide figh filent fink fkies fleep flow'r fmile foft fome fong fons foon foothe forrow foul fpirits ftill ftranger ftream fuch fure fweet fwell grave grief hand hear heart Heav'n hour laft laſt life's loft lov'd maid morn mourn muft muſt ne'er o'er paffion pain peace PINDAR pity pleaſure poor pow'r reft rife rofe Sally Green ſcene ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſmile ſpot ſpread ſweet tear tender thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou toil tomb trembling Twas vale weeping whofe Whoſe wild wind wretched youth
Popular passages
Page 4 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 4 - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Page 1 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Page 2 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Page 7 - How lov'd , how honour'd once , avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
Page 1 - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Page 6 - What though no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances, and the public show?
Page 9 - Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.