The poems, of William Collins, with notes selected and orig. by W. Crowe

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第51页 - A solemn, strange, and mingled air 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure...
第44页 - O'erhang his wavy bed, Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises midst the twilight path, Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...
第25页 - O chaste, unboastful Nymph, to thee I call ! By all the honey'd store On Hybla's thymy shore, By all her blooms and mingled murmurs dear; By her whose love-lorn woe In evening musings slow Soothed sweetly sad Electra's poet's ear : By old Cephisus...
第32页 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung; By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair To dwell, a weeping hermit, there!
第62页 - midst the chase on every plain, The tender thought on thee shall dwell. Each lonely scene shall thee restore, For thee the tear be duly shed ; Belov'd, till life can charm no more ; And mourn'd, till Pity's self be dead.
第vii页 - The latter part of his life cannot be remembered but with pity and sadness. He languished some years under that depression of mind which enchains the faculties without destroying them, and leaves reason the knowledge of right without the power of pursuing it.
第24页 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
第45页 - ... The gradual dusky veil, While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont> And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light : While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, Or Winter yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes : So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name ! ODE TO PEACE.
第5页 - Ye mute companions of my toils, that bear In all my griefs a more than equal share, Here, where no springs in murmurs break away, Or...
第64页 - And mid the varied landscape weep. But thou, who own'st that earthy bed, Ah ! what will every dirge avail? Or tears which love and pity shed, That mourn beneath the gliding sail?

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