Lady's Poetical Magazine, Or Beauties of British Poetry, 第 2 卷

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Harrison and Company, 1781
 

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第273页 - His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand ; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
第16页 - Presume thy bolts to throw, And deal damnation round the land On each I judge thy foe. If I am right, thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay; If I am wrong, oh teach my heart To find that better way...
第160页 - But ah ! what pen his piteous plight may trace ? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his disguised face ? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain ? The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain...
第414页 - What recks it them? What need they? They are sped; And when they list, their lean and flashy songs Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; The hungry sheep look up and are not fed, But swoln with wind and the rank mist they draw, Rot inwardly and foul contagion spread; Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw Daily devours apace, and nothing said. But that two-handed engine at the door Stands ready to smite once and smite no more.
第217页 - Without a vain, without a grudging heart, To him who gives us all, I yield a part ; From him you come, for him accept it here, A frank and sober, more than costly cheer.
第272页 - 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 ; O'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, Unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain ; No joys to him pacific...
第15页 - What conscience dictates to be done, Or warns me not to do, This teach me more than hell to shun, That more than heaven pursue.
第415页 - There entertain him all the saints above In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing, in their glory move, And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
第448页 - 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268页 - The robes of pleasure and the veils of woe: All aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain, Whose joys are causeless, or whose griefs are vain. Such was the scorn that...

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