A collection of poems, by several hands [ed. by R. Dodsley].1758 |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 25
Page 6
... grove Commands his Dryads over your abodes To spread their deepest umbrage . well the God Remembereth how indulgent ye fupplied Your genial dews to nurse them in their prime . Pales , the pasture's queen , where'er ye stray , Pursues ...
... grove Commands his Dryads over your abodes To spread their deepest umbrage . well the God Remembereth how indulgent ye fupplied Your genial dews to nurse them in their prime . Pales , the pasture's queen , where'er ye stray , Pursues ...
Page 12
... grove , they taught me words Of power from death and envy to preserve The good man's name . whence yet with grateful mind And offerings unprofan'd by ruder eye , My vows I fend , my homage , to the feats Of rocky Cirrha , where with you ...
... grove , they taught me words Of power from death and envy to preserve The good man's name . whence yet with grateful mind And offerings unprofan'd by ruder eye , My vows I fend , my homage , to the feats Of rocky Cirrha , where with you ...
Page 31
... grove Of branching oaks a rural palace old Imbofoms . there dwells Albert , generous lord Of all the harvest round . and onward thence A low plain chapel fronts the morning light Faft by a filent riv'let . Humbly walk , O ftranger , o ...
... grove Of branching oaks a rural palace old Imbofoms . there dwells Albert , generous lord Of all the harvest round . and onward thence A low plain chapel fronts the morning light Faft by a filent riv'let . Humbly walk , O ftranger , o ...
Page 41
... , and at the mountain's base , The lowing herds thro ' living pastures rove ; Wide waving harvests crown the rising space ; And still fuperior nods the viny grove . High on the top , as guardian of the scene High [ 41 ]
... , and at the mountain's base , The lowing herds thro ' living pastures rove ; Wide waving harvests crown the rising space ; And still fuperior nods the viny grove . High on the top , as guardian of the scene High [ 41 ]
Page 55
... Thee , my friend , unwillingly to thee For truths like these the anxious Muse appeals . Can Memory answer from affliction free , Or fpeaks the fufferer what , I fear , he feels ? D 4 No , No , let me hope ere this in Romely grove [ 55 ]
... Thee , my friend , unwillingly to thee For truths like these the anxious Muse appeals . Can Memory answer from affliction free , Or fpeaks the fufferer what , I fear , he feels ? D 4 No , No , let me hope ere this in Romely grove [ 55 ]
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
bard beauty behold beneath bleffings bleft blifs boaſt bofom breaſt charms chearful Chlorinda cloſe cou'd courſe eaſe Ev'n ev'ry facred fafe fage fair fame fate fcene feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhou'd fhun figh filent fince firft firſt flow'rs fmile foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul freſh ftands ftate ftill ftream fuch fure fweet genius glory grace grove hand heart heav'n laſt Latian lefs loft lyre mind moſt Mufe muft Muſe muſt Naiads ne'er numbers Nymphs o'er paffion peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reafon reft rife ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhape ſhare ſhe ſhould ſky ſmile ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſprings ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtrains ſweet taſk taſte thee thefe theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand thro toil vale virtue Whilft whofe whoſe wife wings wiſh worfe wou'd youth
Popular passages
Page 321 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air And, with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 322 - Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit, they linger yet, Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Page 317 - Aeolian lyre, awake, And give to rapture all thy trembling strings. From Helicon's harmonious springs A thousand rills their mazy progress take: The laughing flowers, that round them blow, Drink life and fragrance as they flow. Now the rich stream of music winds along, Deep, majestic, smooth, and strong, Through verdant vales and Ceres...
Page 318 - Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Page 28 - The language of our fathers. Here he dwelt For many a cheerful day. These ancient walls Have often heard him, while his legends blithe He sang; of love, or knighthood, or the wiles Of homely life; through each estate and age, The fashions and the follies of the world With cunning hand portraying.
Page 321 - And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre. 'Hark, how each giant-oak, and desert cave, Sighs to the torrent's aweful voice beneath ! O'er thee, oh King ! their hundred arms they wave,. Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; Vocal no more, since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
Page 319 - Muse? Night and all her sickly dews, Her Spectres wan, and Birds of boding cry, He gives to range the dreary sky; Till down the eastern cliffs afar Hyperion's march they spy, and glitt'ring shafts of war.
Page 323 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Page 27 - Actaea, daughter of the neighbouring stream, . This cave belongs. The fig-tree and the vine, Which o'er the rocky entrance downward shoot, Were placed by Glycon.
Page 325 - Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign : Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph and to die are mine.