The Wiccamical Chaplet, a Selection of Original Poetry: Comprising Smaller Poems, Serious and Comic; Classical Trifles; Mock-heroics, Epigrams, Fragments, &c., &cGeorge Huddesford Leigh, Sotheby, 1804 - 225 pàgines |
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
The Wiccamical Chaplet, a Selection of Original Poetry: Comprising Smaller ... George Huddesford Visualització completa - 1804 |
The Wiccamical Chaplet, a Selection of Original Poetry: Comprising Smaller ... George Huddesford Visualització completa - 1804 |
The Wiccamical Chaplet, a Selection of Original Poetry: Comprising Smaller ... George Huddesford Visualització completa - 1804 |
Frases i termes més freqüents
adieu Adsis amorous ANACREONTIC ANTISTROPHE arms BALLAD Bard Beauty Beech beneath blessing bliss bloom breast breath brow call'd Chafing-dishes charms Cleora cries dear Death Desenfans divine doth dulce domum E'en e'er ELEGY English Poetry EPITAPH ev'ry EX ANTHOL fair fam'd fame fate fear flame fond FRAGMENT gentle glory grace grave hallow'd head hear heart Heav'n holie Modher INSCRIPTION Jack Jack Ketch kiss LADY life's Lord lov'd Love's lovely head Lyre Maid mind Muse Nature's ne'er nought numbers o'er pain passion Peace PEPPER-BOX plain Poet Poetry pow'r Rhadamanthus Rich Rowland sacred shade shew sigh sing smiling soft SONG SONNET sorrows soul Souwaroff Spleen strain sung sweet tear tell thee thine Thomas Warton thou thro TRANSLATION Twas Twill Verse Virtue voice Warton ween weep WINDSOR LODGE Yattendon youth δε
Passatges populars
Pàgina 58 - SHALL I, wasting in despair, Die, because a woman's fair ? Or make pale my cheeks with care, 'Cause another's rosy are ? Be she fairer than the day, Or the flowery meads in May, If she be not so to me, What care I how fair she be...
Pàgina 79 - But if, like me, he knew how fruitless all The thoughts that would full fain the past recall, Soon would he quell the risings of his heart, And brave the wild winds and unhearing tide, The world his country, and his God his guide.
Pàgina 58 - Think what with them they would do That without them dare to woo ; And unless that mind I see, What care I how great she be ? Great, or good, or kind, or fair, I will ne'er the more despair: If she love me, this believe, I will die ere she shall grieve : If she slight me when I woo, I can scorn and let her go ; For if she be not for me, What care I for whom she be ? George Wither.
Pàgina 108 - HUMID seal of soft affections ! Tenderest pledge of future bliss ! Dearest tie of young connexions ! Love's first snowdrop, virgin kiss ! Speaking silence ! dumb confession ! Passion's birth and infant play ! Dovelike fondness, chaste concession, Glowing dawn of brighter day...
Pàgina 221 - Queen of every moving measure, Sweetest source of purest pleasure, Music ! why thy powers employ Only for the sons of joy ? Only for the smiling guests At natal or at nuptial feasts ? Rather thy lenient numbers pour On those whom secret griefs devour : Bid be still the throbbing hearts Of those whom death or absence parts; And with some softly- whispered air Smooth the brow of dumb despair*".
Pàgina 7 - For him though wealth be blown on ev'ry wind, Though Fame announce him mightiest of mankind, Though twice ten nations crouch beneath his blade, Virtue...
Pàgina 76 - Advancing slow forewarns the approach of day (What time the young and flowery-kirtled May Decks the green hedge and dewy grass unshorn With cowslips pale and many a whitening thorn...
Pàgina 86 - And mark the lessening sand from hour-glass fall; Or 'neath my window view the wistful train Of dripping poultry, whom the vine's broad leaves Shelter no more. Mute is the mournful plain; Silent the swallow sits beneath the thatch, And vacant hind hangs pensive o'er his hatch, Counting the frequent drips from reeded eaves.
Pàgina 79 - ON these white cliffs, that calm above the flood Uplift their shadowing heads, and, at their feet, Scarce hear the surge that has for ages beat, Sure many a lonely wanderer has stood ; And, whilst the lifted murmur met his ear, And o'er the distant billows the still eve...
Pàgina 112 - tis all for thee ; Hast thou a wish ? — 'tis all for me ; So soft our moments move, That angels look with ardent gaze, Well pleased to see our happy days, And bid us live — and love. If cares arise — and cares will come— Thy bosom is my softest home, I'll lull me there to rest ; And is there aught disturbs my fair?