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Ann Radcliffe Beauty Beauty's blessings blest Bliss bosom Breast Bright Eyes Celia charms Chloe Colin Cowley Cupid Damon dart dear dear Mary deceive delight design'd despair disdain divine dream drest Ease ev'ry Eyes Face Fair-One faithless Fancy Fate flame fond Fools Friend Friendship gentle George Wither give Grace grief grove happy hath Heart Heaven Hebe Hope hour Hymen kind Lise live look lov'd Love for Love love Thee Love's Lover Maid Mind mourn Nature's ne'er never night Nymph o'er pain passion Peace Phillis pity pleasure pow'r Pride prove resin'd sacred scorn sear Sedley seel Sense shade shew sighs sirst Slave smile soft Songs Sorrow Soul Souls embrace Swain sweet tell tender thine Thou wilt e'er thought thro Tongue true twill Virtue Virtue's Vocal Musick Voice vows wilt e'er remember wou'd ye Fair Youth
Seite 165 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot music raise and quell!
Seite 17 - Not, Celia, that I juster am Or better than the rest ; For I would change each hour, like them, Were not my heart at rest. But I am tied to very thee By every thought I have ; Thy face I only care to see, Thy heart I only crave.
Seite 5 - Immodest words admit of no defence ; For want of decency is want of sense.
Seite 12 - Nor peace, nor ease, the heart can know, That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, But turning, trembles too.
Seite 97 - Cause I see a woman kind? Or a well disposed nature Joined with a lovely feature? Be she meeker, kinder, than Turtle-dove or pelican, If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love? Or her...
Seite 70 - For women, born to be controll'd, Stoop to the forward and the bold, Affect the haughty and the proud, The gay, the frolic, and the loud. Who first the generous steed oppress'd, Not kneeling did salute the beast, But with high courage, life, and force, Approaching, tam'd th
Seite 133 - Now the flame rises fast, you exult in my pain; But the son of Alknomook can never complain. I go to the land where my father is gone; His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son: Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain; And thy son, Oh Alknomook!
Seite 20 - I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why then shouldst thou have mine? Yet now I think on't, let it lie; To find it were in vain, For th' hast a thief in either eye Would steal it back again.