The poems of William Drummond, with life by P. Cunningham

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1833 - 80 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 181 - [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; Glist'ring with dew : fragrant the fertile earth
Pàgina 34 - the thoughts are just. 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'erflowing, full.*
Pàgina 1 - soothed with it an Exile's grief; The Sonnet glitter'da gay myrtle Leaf Amid the cypress with which Dante crown'd His visionary brow: a glow-worm Lamp, It cheer'd mild Spenser, call'd from Faery land To struggle through dark ways ; and when a damp Fell round the path of Milton, in his hand The Thing became a trumpet, whence he blew Soul-animating strains—alas, too few.
Pàgina 202 - wailings to the fainting ear, Each stroke a sigh, each sound draws forth a tear, For which be silent as in woods before: Or if that any hand to touch thee deign, Like widow'd turtle still her loss complain. SONNET LXXIV. The only guerdon of my helpless pain; When I thee got thou shewMst
Pàgina 1 - this Key Shakspeare unlock'd his heart; the melody Of this small Lute gave ease to Petrarch's wound ; A thousand times this Pipe did Tasso sound ; Cambens soothed with it an Exile's grief; The Sonnet
Pàgina 180 - The winds all silent are, And Phoebus in his chair, Ensaffroning sea and air, Makes vanish every star: Night like a drunkard reels Beyond the hills, to shun his flaming wheels. The fields with flow'rs are deck'd in every hue, The clouds with orient gold spangle their
Pàgina 222 - 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 deckt with beauty's rose his tomb, Disdains to crop a weed, and will
Pàgina 179 - life to this dark world which lieth dead. Spread forth thy golden hair In larger locks than thou wast wont before, And emperor-like decore With diadem of pearl thy temples fair: Chase hence the ugly night, Which serves
Pàgina 104 - A pleasure passing ere in thought made ours, A honour that more fickle is than wind, A glory at opinion's frown that low'rs, A treasury which bankrupt time devours, A knowledge than grave ignorance more blind, A vain delight our equals to command, A style of greatness, in
Pàgina 104 - a dream, A swelling thought of holding sea and land, A servile lot, deck'd with a pompous name ; Are the strange ends we toil for here below, Till wisest death make us our errors know. THE PERMANENCIE OF LIFE. LIFE a right shadow is ; For if it long

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