Roach's Beauties of the Modern Poets of Great Britain: Carefully Selected and Arranged ...J. Roach, 1794 - English poetry |
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Page 13
... rob'd Innocence from heav'n defcend . Swift fly the years , and rife th ' expected morn ! Oh fpring to light , aufpicious Babe , be born ! Vol . IV . 14 . B See See Nature haftes her earlieft wreaths to bring , With MESSIAH, ...
... rob'd Innocence from heav'n defcend . Swift fly the years , and rife th ' expected morn ! Oh fpring to light , aufpicious Babe , be born ! Vol . IV . 14 . B See See Nature haftes her earlieft wreaths to bring , With MESSIAH, ...
Page 16
... heav'n its fparkling portals wide display , And break upon thee in a flood of day . No more the rifing Sun fhall gild the morn , Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her filver horn , But loft , diffolv'd in thy fuperior rays , One tide of glory ...
... heav'n its fparkling portals wide display , And break upon thee in a flood of day . No more the rifing Sun fhall gild the morn , Nor ev'ning Cynthia fill her filver horn , But loft , diffolv'd in thy fuperior rays , One tide of glory ...
Page 24
... Heav'n , to judge assembled worlds , Cloth'd in celeftial radiance ? Can the Mufe , Her feeble wing all damp with earthly dew , Soar to that bright empyreal , where around Myriads of angels , God's perpetual choir , Hymns hallelujahs ...
... Heav'n , to judge assembled worlds , Cloth'd in celeftial radiance ? Can the Mufe , Her feeble wing all damp with earthly dew , Soar to that bright empyreal , where around Myriads of angels , God's perpetual choir , Hymns hallelujahs ...
Page 25
... Heav'n . Sceptic ! whoe'er thou art , who fay'ft the foul , That divine particle which God's own breath Infpir'd into the mortal mass , fhall rest Annihilate , till Duration has unroll'd Her never - ending line ; tell , if thou know'it ...
... Heav'n . Sceptic ! whoe'er thou art , who fay'ft the foul , That divine particle which God's own breath Infpir'd into the mortal mass , fhall rest Annihilate , till Duration has unroll'd Her never - ending line ; tell , if thou know'it ...
Page 26
... Heav'n of Heav'n he never names the name , Save when with imprecations dark and dire He points his jeft obfcene . Yet buxom Health Sits Sits on his rofy cheek ; yet Honour gilds His 125.
... Heav'n of Heav'n he never names the name , Save when with imprecations dark and dire He points his jeft obfcene . Yet buxom Health Sits Sits on his rofy cheek ; yet Honour gilds His 125.
Common terms and phrases
Beneath beſt blefs bleft blifs boaft bofom bow'r breaft bright charms Cyric death defart defire delight divine doth ECLOGUE EDWARD YOUNG erft eternal ev'ry eyes facred fafe fair fame fate fcene fear feas fecret feem feen felf fenfe fhade fhall fhame fhepherds fhine fhore fhould figh fight filent fing firft firſt fkies flain fleep flow'r fmile foft folemn fome fong forrow foul fpirit fprings frikes ftill ftream fuch fwain fweet Gonne grief grove heart heav'n himſelf juft kings lefs loft Lord lov'd Lycidas maid mind moft moſt Mufe muft muſt nymph o'er paffion pain peace pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praife praiſe purſue raiſe refign'd Refignation reft rife ſcenes ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſpread ſweet tears Theatre Royal thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand thro Twill whilft whofe whoſe WILLIAM SHENSTONE wyllowe
Popular passages
Page 40 - Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due : For Lycidas* is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : Who would not sing for Lycidas ? He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme.
Page 57 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Page 3 - Though equal to all things, for all things unfit ; Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit, For a patriot too cool, for a drudge disobedient, And too fond of the right to pursue the expedient. In short 'twas his fate, unemploy'd, or in place, sir, To eat mutton cold, and cut blocks with a razor.
Page 42 - Clos'd o'er the head of your lov'd Lycidas? For neither were ye playing on the steep, Where your old Bards, the famous Druids, lie, Nor on the shaggy top of Mona high, Nor yet where Deva spreads her wizard stream: Ay me!
Page 6 - Of praise a mere glutton, he swallow'd what came, And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame; Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, Who pepper'd the highest was surest to please. But let us be candid, and speak out our mind, If dunces applauded, he paid them in kind. Ye Kenricks, ye Kellys, and Woodfalls so grave, What a commerce was yours while you got and you gave!
Page 7 - Here Reynolds is laid, and to tell you my mind, He has not left a wiser or better behind ; His pencil was striking, resistless, and grand ; His manners were gentle, complying, and bland : Still born to improve us in every part, His pencil our faces, his manners our heart...
Page 54 - ... shade. In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away. In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixt; sweet recreation: And innocence, which most does please With meditation.
Page 55 - Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing ; While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
Page 3 - Were these their crimes! they were his own much more; But wealth is crime enough to him that's poor, Who having spent the treasures of his crown, Condemns their luxury to feed his own ; And yet this act, to varnish o'er the shame Of sacrilege, must bear Devotion's name. No crime so bold but would be understood A real, or at least, a seeming good.
Page 41 - For we were nursed upon the self-same hill, Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and rill. Together both, ere the high lawns appear'd Under the opening eye-lids of the morn, We drove a-field, and both together heard What time the gray-fly winds her sultry horn...