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appear arms beauty beneath breaſt breath bright charms command court dear death delight earth ev'ry eyes face fair fall fame fate fear feel fields fight fire firſt flow force grace grief grove hand head hear heart Heav'n hills honour hope hour it's kind king land laſt laws leave light live look maid mind morn mourn muſt Nature night o'er once pain paſſion peace plain pleaſure pow'r praiſe pride race rage riſe round ſaid ſcenes ſee ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſmiles ſome ſon ſoul ſpread ſtate ſtill ſtream ſuch ſweet tears tell thee theſe thoſe thou thought thouſand thro toil train truth turns vain various virtue voice wealth whoſe wild wind woods wretch youth
Seite 273 - 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.
Seite 160 - 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...
Seite 414 - 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.
Seite 217 - 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.
Seite 272 - 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...
Seite 15 - 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.
Seite 415 - 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.
Seite 448 - 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.