The English Anthology, Volum 2Joseph Ritson C. Clarke, 1794 - 334 pàgines "A selection of English poetry, in a chronological series, from the beginning of the sixteenth century (or, including an extract from Chaucer, from the latter part of the fourteenth) to the present time, upon a plan hitherto unattempted, at least in this country. ... No alteration (except in apparent mistakes) has been attempted either in the language or in the orthography, as as little as possible even in the punctuation, of the edition followed ... nor has any piece been inserted which had already appeared in "A Select Collection of English Songs," published in 1783"--Advertisement |
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Resultats 1 - 5 de 75.
Pàgina 33
... shall thy friend , nor thou refuse his aid , 260 Still foe to vice , forfake his Cambrian fhade ; In virtue's caufe once more exert his rage , Thy fatire point , and animate thy page . VOL . II . C • LOVE ELEGIES . BY JAMES HAMMOND ...
... shall thy friend , nor thou refuse his aid , 260 Still foe to vice , forfake his Cambrian fhade ; In virtue's caufe once more exert his rage , Thy fatire point , and animate thy page . VOL . II . C • LOVE ELEGIES . BY JAMES HAMMOND ...
Pàgina 34
... lover's mind , Tho ' ruthlefs age may bid her beauty fade , every friend to love , a friend shall find : * Born 1710 ; dyed 1742 . In 15 And , when the lamp of life will burn no Love elegies By James Hammond, efq From the edition of 1780.
... lover's mind , Tho ' ruthlefs age may bid her beauty fade , every friend to love , a friend shall find : * Born 1710 ; dyed 1742 . In 15 And , when the lamp of life will burn no Love elegies By James Hammond, efq From the edition of 1780.
Pàgina 35
... shall her loss deplore , And round the bier affembled lovers weep : 20 With flow'ry garlands , each revolving year , Shall ftrow the grave where truth and softness rest , Then , home returning , drop the pious tear , And bid the turf ...
... shall her loss deplore , And round the bier affembled lovers weep : 20 With flow'ry garlands , each revolving year , Shall ftrow the grave where truth and softness rest , Then , home returning , drop the pious tear , And bid the turf ...
Pàgina 46
... Shall be ere - while , in arid bundles bound , To lurk amidst the labours of her loom , And crown her kerchiefs clean , with mickle rare perfume . And here trim rosemarine , that whilom crown'd The daintiest garden of the proudest peer ...
... Shall be ere - while , in arid bundles bound , To lurk amidst the labours of her loom , And crown her kerchiefs clean , with mickle rare perfume . And here trim rosemarine , that whilom crown'd The daintiest garden of the proudest peer ...
Pàgina 50
... but she , regret this mournful hour : Yet hence the youth , and hence the flow'r , shall claim , If fo I deem aright , tranfcending worth and fame . 225 Behind fome door , in melancholy thought , Mindless of 50 SHENSTONE .
... but she , regret this mournful hour : Yet hence the youth , and hence the flow'r , shall claim , If fo I deem aright , tranfcending worth and fame . 225 Behind fome door , in melancholy thought , Mindless of 50 SHENSTONE .
Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
Frases i termes més freqüents
beneath bleffings bleft bleſs boaſt Born breaſt charms cloſe dear dethe diſcloſe dydd dyed e'er eaſe ev'ry eyes facred fafe fair fame fate fecret fhade fhall filver fing firſt fleep flow'r fmile foft fome fong fons foon forrow foul ftill ftream fuch fweet fyr Charles Godde grief heart heav'n honeft houſe huſband King kynge laſt LEONARD WELSTED loft lord maid moft moſt mournful Mufe Muſe muſt ne'er nymph o'er onne pain paſt pleaſe pleaſure Poet pow'r praiſe pride raiſe reaſon reft rife round ſcene SCOT ſhade ſhall ſhame ſhare ſhe ſhould ſkies ſky ſmiles ſpread ſpring ſtand ſtate ſtay ſteps ſtill ſweet tears thanne thatt thee thefe Thenne theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thro thye Twas verſe Whilft whofe whoſe WILLIAM BROOME wiſh wretch wyfe wylle wythe ynne youth
Passatges populars
Pàgina 164 - The village master taught his little school: A man severe he was, and stern to view, I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face; Full well they laughed with counterfeited glee At all his jokes, for many a joke had he...
Pàgina 87 - Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave.
Pàgina 89 - On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, Ev'n in our Ashes live their wonted Fires. For thee, who mindful of th...
Pàgina 87 - Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team afield ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke...
Pàgina 86 - Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
Pàgina 86 - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Pàgina 164 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Pàgina 164 - Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew— 'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too, Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And e'en the story ran that he could gauge.
Pàgina 163 - Pleased with his guests, the good man learned to glow, And quite forgot their vices in their woe ; Careless their merits or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.
Pàgina 157 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...