Select Works of the British Poets: With Biographical and Critical Prefaces, 第 9 卷

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John Aikin
Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme & Brown, 1821 - 807 頁
 

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第 19 頁 - 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...
第 11 頁 - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart ; And e'en those ills that round his mansion rise Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
第 208 頁 - Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 1 will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own : And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
第 18 頁 - How small , of all that human hearts endure , That part which laws or kings can cause or cure.
第 30 頁 - Altama murmurs to their woe. Far different there from all that charm'd before, The various terrors of that horrid shore : Those blazing suns that dart a downward ray, And fiercely shed intolerable day...
第 284 頁 - Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too ; affectionate in look, And tender in address, as well becomes A messenger of grace to guilty men.
第 10 頁 - Though poor the peasant's hut, his feasts though small, He sees his little lot the lot of all ; Sees no contiguous palace rear its head To shame the meanness of his humble shed...
第 208 頁 - I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away...
第 211 頁 - My boast is not, that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth ; But higher far my proud pretensions rise — The son of parents passed into the skies!
第 26 頁 - Imagination fondly stoops to trace The parlour splendours of that festive place ; The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor, The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door ; The chest contrived a double debt to pay, A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day ; The pictures placed for ornament and use, The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose...

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