The Poems of William Drummond of Hawthornden: With Life, by Peter Cunningham

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Cochrane and M'Crone, 1833 - 336 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 193 - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds; pleasant the sun, When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glistering with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening
Pàgina 162 - I know that all the muse's heavenly lays, With toil of sprite which are so dearly bought, As idle sounds, of few or none are sought, That there is nothing lighter than mere praise.
Pàgina 118 - Of this fair volume which we World do name If we the sheets and leaves could turn with care, Of him who it corrects, and did it frame, We clear might read the art and wisdom rare: Find out his power which wildest powers doth tame, His providence extending everywhere, His justice which proud rebels doth not spare, In every page, no period of the same. But silly we, like foolish children, rest Well pleased with...
Pàgina 44 - O could I flow like thee, and make thy stream My great example, as it is my theme! Though deep, yet clear, though gentle, yet not dull, Strong without rage, without o'er-flowing full.
Pàgina 214 - Since that dear voice which did thy sounds approve. Which wont in such harmonious strains to flow, Is reft from earth to tune those spheres above, What art thou but a harbinger of woe? Thy pleasing notes be pleasing notes no more, But orphans...
Pàgina 43 - Old Chaucer, like the morning star, To us discovers day from far. His light those mists and clouds dissolv'd Which our dark nation long involv'd; But he, descending to the shades, Darkness again the age invades...
Pàgina 252 - DOTH then the world go thus, doth all thus move? Is this the justice which on earth we find ? Is this that firm decree which all doth bind ? Are these your influences, Powers above? Those souls which vice's moody mists most blind, Blind Fortune, blindly, most their friend doth prove; And they who thee, poor idol, Virtue ! love, Ply like a feather toss'd by storm and wind. Ah! if a Providence doth sway this all, Why should best minds groan under most distress? Or...
Pàgina 234 - MADRIGAL My thoughts hold mortal strife ; I do detest my life, And with lamenting cries Peace to my soul to bring Oft call that prince which here doth monarchize : — But he, grim grinning King, Who caitiffs scorns, and doth the blest surprise, Late having deck'd with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will not come.
Pàgina 11 - Camoens soothed an exile's grief; The Sonnet glittered a gay myrtle leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crowned His visionary brow: a glow-worm lamp, It cheered mild Spenser, called from Faery-land To struggle through dark ways ; and when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand...
Pàgina 191 - And, emperor-like, decore With diadem of pearl thy temples fair ; Chase hence the ugly Night, Which serves but to make dear thy glorious light. This is that happy morn That day...

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