Bell's Edition, Volumes 91-92

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Page 201 - Ah little think they, while they dance along, How many feel, this very moment, death And all the sad variety of pain.
Page 71 - Delightful task! to rear the tender thought, To teach the young idea how to shoot...
Page 229 - Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And* every sense and every heart is joy. Then comes thy glory in the summer months, With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun Shoots full perfection through the swelling year...
Page 229 - Shoots full perfection through the swelling year: And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks, And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves in hollow-whispering gales. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, And spreads a common feast for all that lives.
Page 32 - I care not, Fortune, what you me deny : You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve...
Page 198 - Along the mazy current. Low the woods Bow their hoar head ; and ere the languid sun Faint from the west emits his evening ray, Earth's universal face, deep hid and chill, Is one wild dazzling waste, that buries wide The works of man.
Page 32 - Though restless still themselves, a lulling murmur made. Joined to the prattle of the purling rills, Were heard the lowing herds along the vale, And flocks loud-bleating from the distant hills, And vacant shepherds piping in the dale : And now and then sweet Philomel would wail, Or stock-doves...
Page 51 - Hail, Source of Being ! Universal Soul Of Heaven and Earth ! Essential Presence, hail ! To Thee I bend the knee ; to Thee my thoughts Continual climb ; who, with a master-hand, Hast the great whole into perfection touch'd.
Page 32 - While o'er th' enfeebling lute his hand he flung, And to the trembling chords these tempting verses sung: 'Behold, ye pilgrims of this earth, behold! See all but man with unearned pleasure gay ! See her bright robes the butterfly unfold, Broke from her wintry tomb in prime of May. What youthful bride can equal her array? Who can with her for easy pleasure vie? From mead to mead with gentle wing to stray, From flower to flower on balmy gales to fly, Is all she has to do beneath the radiant sky.
Page 70 - But happy they, the happiest of their kind, Whom gentler stars unite, and in one fate Their hearts, their fortunes, and their beings blend. Tis not the coarser tie of human laws, Unnatural oft, and foreign to the mind, That binds their peace ; but harmony itself, Attuning all their passions into love ; Where friendship...

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