The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Volume 8

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F.C. & J. Rivington, 1814 - English poetry
 

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Page 13 - Whilst the landscape round it measures ; Russet lawns and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest ; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide : Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some beauty lies, The cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
Page 129 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike th
Page 264 - And Moses went up from the plains of Moab unto the mountain of Nebo, to the top of Pisgah, that is over against Jericho. And the Lord shewed him all the land of Gilead, unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim, and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah, unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the valley of Jericho, the city of palm trees, unto Zoar.
Page 562 - All fly to Twit'nam, and in humble strain Apply to me, to keep them mad or vain.
Page 12 - While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale. Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures; Russet lawns, and fallows grey, Where the nibbling flocks do stray; Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks and rivers wide; Towers and battlements...
Page 232 - THE scene was more beautiful far to my eye Than if day in its pride had arrayed it ; The land-breeze blew mild, and the azure-arched sky Looked pure as the Spirit that made it : The murmur rose soft as I silently gazed On the shadowy waves...
Page 475 - Me wrangling courts, and stubborn law, To smoke, and crowds, and cities draw: There selfish faction rules the day, And pride and avarice throng the way; Diseases taint the murky air, And midnight conflagrations glare; Loose Revelry, and Riot bold, In frighted streets their orgies hold ; Or, where in silence all is drowned, Fell Murder walks his lonely round ; No room for peace, no room for you, Adieu, celestial Nymph, adieu!
Page 12 - Where the great sun begins his state, Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; While the ploughman, near at hand, Whistles o'er the furrow'd land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale, Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Page 13 - We at length reached the spot, whence Milton undoubtedly took most of his images; it is on the top of the hill, from which there is a most extensive prospect on all sides: the distant mountains that seemed to support the clouds, the villages and turrets, partly shaded...
Page 14 - The tradition of his having lived there is current among the villagers : one of them showed us a ruinous wall, that made part of his chamber ; and I was much pleased with another, who had forgotten the name of Milton, but recollected him by the title of The Poet.

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