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Agnes de Percy arms artsul beauteous beauty beneath blest bliss blooming blooming band bosom Bothal Castle bower breast bright Brinkburn Priory castle Chapel charms cheek cried David Garrick dear Edwin Eldred Ellen ev'n ev'ry fair fame fate fear fled flower fond fondly foul gale gentle grace grief grove hand haste heart heaven Hermit hour lady land lise lonely Lord Lord Percy lov'd lyre maid mind morn mountain Muse Nature's ne'er night o'er pale Percy plain pleas'd pleasure pow'r praise pride rage Richard de Percy rock round shade shepherd's sields sire sirst smile soft song sorrow soul spread strain swain sweet SWEET Auburn swist tale tear tender thee thine thou thro toil trembling truth Twas vale venison virtue Warkworth waves wealth weep wept William the Lyon wonder ye sung young youth
Page 231 - 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 189 - To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe ; But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, He only wish'd for worlds beyond the grave. His lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears, The fond companion of his helpless years, Silent went next, neglectful of her charms, And left a lover's for a father's arms.
Page 185 - The village master taught his little school; A man severe he was and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers...
Page 201 - 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 203 - And coxcombs, alike in their failings alone, Adopting his portraits, are pleas'd with their own. Say, where has our poet this malady caught ? Or wherefore his characters thus without fault ? Say, was it that vainly directing his view To find out men's virtues, and finding them few, Quite sick of pursuing each troublesome elf, He grew lazy at last, and drew from himself.
Page 179 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 235 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 184 - At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.