What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
affectation Apollo arms authors Bard bear brain breaſt bring charms common critic dame Delos doubt dull eaſe eaſy ev'ry eyes face fair fame fancy fear feel fight fire firſt flame foes folks fool genius give grace half hand hate head hear heart hope hour keep kind king Lady learned letters light live look mean mighty mind moſt muſe muſt nature never o'er once pain perhaps pleaſe poet poet's poor pow'r praiſe pride proſe rhime rhyme riſe round ſaid ſay ſee ſenſe ſhall ſhe ſhould ſmile ſome ſoul ſound ſpeak ſtill ſtrong ſuch ſure talk taſte tell thee theſe things thoſe thou thought thouſand throne true turn uſe verſe virtues Whoſe wife winds wiſh woes write
Page 188 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Page 190 - The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Page 198 - On some fond breast the parting soul relies. Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who mindful of th...
Page 204 - 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 200 - 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.
Page 198 - Their name, their years, fpelt by th' unletter'd Mufe, The place of fame and elegy fupply : And many a holy text around fhe ftrews, That teach the ruftic moralift to dye.
Page 196 - Th' applaufe of lift'ning fenates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to defpife, To fcatter plenty o'er a fmiling land, And read their...
Page 190 - 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.