The Wreath: Containing The Minstrel and Other Favorite Poems, to which is Prefixed, the Life of Dr. Beattie

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W. Suttaby & B. Corrall, 1806 - 153页
 

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第11页 - But who the melodies of morn can tell ? — The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide, The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the ocean-tide ; The hum of bees ; the linnet's lay of love ; And the full choir that wakes the universal grove.
第112页 - Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung The hunter's call, to Faun and Dryad known.
第3页 - O, how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, » And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of Heaven...
第111页 - twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure ? Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail...
第113页 - Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kissed the strings, Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round : Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound ; And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
第8页 - And be it so. Let those deplore their doom, " Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn. " But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb, " Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. " Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return ? " Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed ? " Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn, " And spring shall soon her vital influence shed, Again attiuje the grove, again adorn the mead.
第vi页 - AH ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar; Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war; Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown...
第113页 - Tis said and I believe the tale, Thy humblest reed could more prevail Had more of strength, diviner rage, Than all which charms this laggard age...
第77页 - Ah ! why will Kings forget that they are Men ? And Men that they are brethren ? Why delight In human sacrifice ? Why burst the ties Of Nature, that should knit their souls together In one soft bond of amity and love...
第112页 - He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, And with a withering look The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe. And ever and anon he beat...

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