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No hem trobat cap ressenya als llocs habituals.
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beauty beneath bird blessings blind breast breathe bring Charity charms Church clouds cold cried dark dead death doth earth ev'ry eyes face fair fall Father fear feel field fire Gilpin give glory grace green ground half hand happy hast hath head hear heard heart heav'n holy hope hour human Hymn John kind king laid land leaves light live Lord mind morn nature never night o'er once pain peace pleasure poor pow'r praise pray pride proud rest rise seen shade shine side sight sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spring sweet taste tear tell thee things thou thought thousand truth vain voice wide wild wind wish woods youth
Pàgina 31 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe with heaved stroke Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Pàgina 114 - JOHN GILPIN was a citizen Of credit and renown, A trainband captain eke was he Of famous London town. John Gilpin's spouse said to her dear, Though wedded we have been These twice ten tedious years, yet we No holiday have seen. To-morrow is our wedding day, And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton All in a chaise and pair. My sister, and my sister's child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise ; so you must ride On horseback after we.
Pàgina 51 - Await alike the inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Pàgina 56 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not. Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Pàgina 55 - The next with dirges due in sad array Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Pàgina 92 - On what foundation stands the warrior's pride? How just his hopes let Swedish Charles decide; A frame of adamant, a soul of fire, No dangers fright him, and no labours tire...
Pàgina 18 - The tear forgot as soon as shed, The sunshine of the breast: Theirs buxom health of rosy hue, Wild wit, invention ever new, And lively cheer of vigour born; The thoughtless day, the easy night, The spirits pure, the slumbers light, That fly the approach of morn.
Pàgina 52 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre.
Pàgina 17 - Say, Father Thames, for thou hast seen Full many a sprightly race Disporting on thy margent green The paths of pleasure trace, Who foremost now delight to cleave With pliant arm thy glassy wave?
Pàgina 76 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.