The British poetical miscellanySikes & Company, 1805 |
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British poetical miscellany. atherme tune brass . Lenton . 2805 . 130 . THE BRITISH Poetical MISCELLANY . BROOK To please the Fancy.
British poetical miscellany. atherme tune brass . Lenton . 2805 . 130 . THE BRITISH Poetical MISCELLANY . BROOK To please the Fancy.
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British poetical miscellany. On thee , O wretched man ! my thought was turn'd ; For thee th ' involuntary tear did flow ; Thy fleeting happiness I inly mourn'd ; For , ah ! by fad experience , well I know , Life's faireft views are but ...
British poetical miscellany. On thee , O wretched man ! my thought was turn'd ; For thee th ' involuntary tear did flow ; Thy fleeting happiness I inly mourn'd ; For , ah ! by fad experience , well I know , Life's faireft views are but ...
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British poetical miscellany. One frenzy feiz'd both great and fmall , On the poor frogs the rogues began to fall , Meaning to fplash them , not to do them hurt . As Milton quaintly fings , " the flones ' gan pour , " Indeed an Otaheite ...
British poetical miscellany. One frenzy feiz'd both great and fmall , On the poor frogs the rogues began to fall , Meaning to fplash them , not to do them hurt . As Milton quaintly fings , " the flones ' gan pour , " Indeed an Otaheite ...
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British poetical miscellany. Far from my long - lov'd friends and native home , And far , my Delia ! ah ! too far from thee . No more thy pleafing converse cheers my foul , And smooths my paffage through life's rugged way ; Thy fmiles no ...
British poetical miscellany. Far from my long - lov'd friends and native home , And far , my Delia ! ah ! too far from thee . No more thy pleafing converse cheers my foul , And smooths my paffage through life's rugged way ; Thy fmiles no ...
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British poetical miscellany. The tott'ring veffel quivers with the blaff , And angry clouds obfcure the cheerful day . Yet why repine ? -my anxious breaft , be ftill ! No human blifs is free from foul alloy ; But what at prefent bears ...
British poetical miscellany. The tott'ring veffel quivers with the blaff , And angry clouds obfcure the cheerful day . Yet why repine ? -my anxious breaft , be ftill ! No human blifs is free from foul alloy ; But what at prefent bears ...
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anguiſh Bad Company behold beneath black crows bleffing bleft bofom breaſt breath BRITISH POETICAL MISCELLANY caft CHARLOTTE SMITH charms cloſe cold cry'd dear death defpair diftant doft dread dy'd E'en ev'ry eyes facred faid fair fate fcene fear feek feen fhade fhall fhore fhould fide figh filent fink fkies fleep flow'r fmile foft fome fong fons foon foothe forrow foul fpirits ftill ftranger ftream fuch fure fweet fwell grave grief hand hear heart Heav'n hour laft laſt life's loft lov'd maid morn mourn muft muſt ne'er o'er paffion pain peace PINDAR pity pleaſure poor pow'r reft rife rofe Sally Green ſcene ſhall ſhe ſkies ſky ſmile ſpot ſpread ſweet tear tender thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou toil tomb trembling Twas vale weeping whofe Whoſe wild wind wretched youth
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4 ページ - 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.
4 ページ - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
1 ページ - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
2 ページ - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
7 ページ - How lov'd , how honour'd once , avails thee not, To whom related, or by whom begot; A heap of dust alone remains of thee, 'Tis all thou art, and all the proud shall be!
1 ページ - Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
6 ページ - What though no friends in sable weeds appear, Grieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year, And bear about the mockery of woe To midnight dances, and the public show?
9 ページ - Why did all-creating Nature Make the plant for which we toil ? Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.