Elegiac Sonnets

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J. Dodsley, H. Gardner, and J. Bew., 1786 - 44 Seiten
 

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Seite 5 - Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way. And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast ; And oft I think, fair planet of the night, That in thy orb the wretched may have rest : The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, Releas'd by death, to thy benignant sphere, And the sad children of despair and woe Forget in thee their cup of sorrow here. Oh, that I soon may reach thy world serene, Poor wearied pilgrim in this toiling scene ! CHARLOTTE SMITH.
Seite 26 - On thy wild banks, by frequent torrents worn. No glittering fanes or marble domes appear ; Yet shall the mournful Muse thy course adorn, And still to her thy rustic waves be dear ! For with the infant Otway...
Seite 5 - Queen of the silver bow! by thy pale beam, Alone and pensive, I delight to stray, And watch thy shadow trembling in the stream, Or mark the floating clouds that cross thy way. And while I gaze, thy mild and placid light Sheds a soft calm upon my troubled breast; And oft I think, fair planet of the night, That in thy orb the wretched may have rest; The sufferers of the earth perhaps may go, Released by death, to thy benignant sphere, And the sad children of despair and woe Forget in thee their cup...
Seite 28 - O happy age ! when hope's unclouded ray , Lights their green path, and prompts their simple mirth, Ere yet they feel the thorns that lurking lay* To wound the wretched pilgrims of the earth, Making them rue the hour that gave them birth, And threw them on a world so full of pain. Where prosperous folly treads on patient worth, And to deaf pride, misfortune pleads in vain ! Ah ! — for their future fate how many fears Oppress my heart and fill mine eyes with tears.
Seite 6 - Ah, hills belov'd! your turf, your flowers remain; But can they peace to this sad breast restore, For one poor moment soothe the sense of pain, And teach a breaking heart to throb no more ? And you, Aruna! in the vale below, As to the...
Seite 26 - ... care On the worn heart — I sure shall be forgiven, If to elude dark guilt, and dire despair, I go uncall'd — to mercy and to heaven! O thou ! to save whose peace I now depart, Will thy soft mind thy poor lost friend deplore, When worms shall feed on this devoted heart, Where even thy image shall be found no more? Yet may thy pity mingle not with pain, For then thy hapless lover — dies in vain!
Seite 13 - Already shipwreck'd by the storms of Fate, Like the poor mariner methinks I stand, Cast on a rock; who sees the distant land From whence no succour comes — or comes too late. Faint and more faint are heard his feeble cries, Till in the rising tide the exhausted sufferer dies.** Specific details of a number of scenes in her novels furnish background and atmosphere for Mrs.
Seite 8 - On the Departure of the Nightingale. SWEET poet of the woods ! a long adieu ! Farewell, soft minstrel of the early year ! Ah ! 'twill be long ere thou shalt sing anew, And pour thy music on the 'night's dull ear.
Seite 6 - your turf, your flowers among,' I wove your blue-bells into garlands wild, And woke your echoes with my artless song. Ah! hills beloved!
Seite 6 - For one poor moment soothe the sense of pain, And teach a breaking heart to throb no more? And you, Aruna! — in the vale below, As to the sea your limpid waves you bear Can you one kind Lethean cup bestow, To drink a long oblivion to my care? Ah! no! — when all, e'en Hope's last ray is gone, There's no oblivion — but in death alone!

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