The Port Folio, 第 3 巻

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Editor and Asbury Dickens, 1809
 

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206 ページ - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
389 ページ - The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung, Of Bacchus ever fair and ever young: The jolly god in triumph comes!
398 ページ - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
203 ページ - And the Lord turned, and looked upon Peter ; and Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how he had said unto him, Before the cock crow, thou shalt deny me thrice. And Peter went out. and wept bitterly.
392 ページ - HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy...
390 ページ - Flush'd with a purple grace He shows his honest face: Now give the hautboys breath; he comes, he comes! Bacchus, ever fair and young, Drinking joys did first ordain; Bacchus...
195 ページ - Of all their regions; powers which only the control of Omnipotence restrains from laying creation waste, and filling the vast expanse of space with ruin and confusion. To display the motives and actions of beings thus superior, so far as human reason can examine them, or human imagination represent them, is the task which this mighty poet has undertaken and performed.
343 ページ - O'er many a distant foreign land ; Each place, each province I have tried, And sung and danced my saraband. But all their charms could not prevail To steal my heart from yonder vale.
390 ページ - Give the vengeance due To the valiant crew ! Behold how they toss their torches on high, How they point to the Persian abodes And...
205 ページ - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...

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