Poems

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Phillips, Sampson, 1853
 

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Pàgina 181 - Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own : And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream, that thou art she.
Pàgina 237 - Well done ! As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin — who but he ? His fame soon spread around, He carries weight ! he rides a race ! 'Tis for a thousand pound...
Pàgina 239 - My head is twice as big as yours, They therefore needs must fit. But let me scrape the dirt away That hangs upon your face ; And stop and eat, for well you may Be in a hungry case.
Pàgina 181 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child; chase all thy fears away!
Pàgina 112 - Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought ; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock.
Pàgina 251 - He loved them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her again. Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away: But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life.
Pàgina 184 - O the thought, that thou art safe, and he ! That thought is joy, arrive what may to me.
Pàgina 179 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more.
Pàgina 236 - He manfully did throw. Now see him mounted once again Upon his nimble steed, Full slowly pacing o'er the stones With caution and good heed. But finding soon a smoother road Beneath his well-shod feet, The snorting beast began to trot, Which gall'd him in his seat. So, Fair and softly...
Pàgina 235 - For saddle-tree scarce reach'd had he, His journey to begin, When, turning round his head, he saw Three customers come in. So down he came; for loss of time, Although it grieved him sore, Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, Would trouble him much more. Twas long before the customers Were suited to their mind, When Betty screaming came down stairs, The wine is left behind!

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