Poems

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第162页 - O God, whose thunder shakes the sky, Whose eye this atom globe surveys ; To Thee, my only rock, I fly, Thy mercy in thy justice praise.
第48页 - Impelled by his eternal love, He left his palaces above, To cheer our gloomy sky. How shall we celebrate the day, When God appeared in mortal clay, The mark of worldly scorn. When the archangel's heavenly lays Attempted the Redeemer's praise, And hailed Salvation's morn?
第136页 - My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree. Hark! the raven flaps his wing In the brier'd dell below; Hark! the death-owl loud doth sing To the nightmares, as they go: My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree.
第xxxviii页 - He affirmed that what Mr. Fell had of mine could not be the writings of a youth ; and expressed a desire to know the author. By the means of another bookseller I shall be introduced to Townshend and Sawbridge. I am quite familiar at the Chapter Coffee-house, and know all the geniuses there.
第104页 - the droppynge pilgrim sayde, " For sweete Seyncte Marie and your order sake." The Limitoure then loosen'd his pouche threade, And did thereoute a groate of silver take ; The mister pilgrim dyd for halline shake.
第xxvi页 - Being versed a little in antiquities, I have met with several curious manuscripts, among which the following may be of service to you, in any future edition of your truly entertaining Anecdotes of Painting.
第136页 - See ! the white moon shines on high; Whiter is my true love's shroud; Whiter than the morning sky, Whiter than the evening cloud.
第xxviii页 - The abbot John's verses, that you have given me, are wonderful for their harmony and spirit; though there are some words I do not understand. You do not point out exactly the time when he lived, which I wish to know ; as I suppose it was long before John al Ectry's discovery of oil painting: if so, it confirms what I have guessed, and have hinted in my Anecdotes, that oil painting was known here much earlier than that discovery or revival.
第162页 - Eternal acts is right. O teach me in the trying hour, When anguish swells the dewy tear, To still my sorrows, own thy power, Thy goodness love, thy justice fear! If in this bosom aught but Thee Encroaching sought a boundless sway, Omniscience could the danger see, And Mercy look the cause away. Then, why, my soul, dost thou complain ? Why drooping seek the dark recess ? Shake off the melancholy chain, For God created all to bless. But ah ! my breast is human still ; The rising sigh, the falling tear,...
第xl页 - My present profession obliges me to frequent places of the best resort. To begin with, what every female conversation begins with, dress : I employ my money now in fitting myself fashionably, and getting into good company ; this last article always brings me in interest.

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