The Beauties of the Poets: Being a Collection of Moral and Sacred Poetry

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C. Whittingham, 1806 - 304 Seiten
 

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Seite 19 - On earth, join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end ! Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Seite 94 - Yes ! let the rich deride, the proud disdain These simple blessings of the lowly train ; To me more dear, congenial to my heart, One native charm, than all the gloss of art...
Seite 78 - And nightly to the list'ning earth Repeats the story of her birth : Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Seite 90 - But now the sounds of population fail, No cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale, No busy steps the grass-grown footway tread, But. all the bloomy flush of life is fled.
Seite 92 - At church, with meek and unaffected grace, His looks adorn'd the venerable place ; Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway, And fools who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
Seite 95 - Not so the loss. The man of wealth and pride Takes up a space that many poor supplied; Space for his lake, his park's extended bounds, Space for his horses, equipage, and hounds; The robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth Has robbed the neighbouring fields of half their growth, His seat, where solitary sports are seen, Indignant spurns the cottage from the green...
Seite 89 - The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school, The watch-dog's voice that bay'd the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind — These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And fill'd each pause the nightingale had made.
Seite 147 - The next with dirges due in sad array Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Seite 26 - His hand to execute what his decree Fix'd on this day? Why do I overlive? Why am I mock'd with death, and lengthen'd out To deathless pain ? How gladly would I meet Mortality my sentence, and be earth Insensible ! How glad would lay me down, As in my mother's lap ? There I should rest, And sleep secure...
Seite 145 - Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes...

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