The remains of Henry Kirke White [ed.] with an acount of his life by R. Southey, Band 2

Cover
 

Ausgewählte Seiten

Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen

Beliebte Passagen

Seite 196 - Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters : and maketh the clouds his chariot, and walketh upon the wings of the wind.
Seite 265 - YE, who with warmth the public triumph feel Of talents dignified by sacred zeal, Here, to devotion's bard devoutly just, Pay your fond tribute due to Cowper's dust ! England, exulting in his spotless fame, Ranks with her dearest sons his favourite name.
Seite 126 - Go, lovely rose, Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Seite 204 - And happiest art adorn his Attic page; Yet does my mind with sweeter transport glow, As at the root of mossy trunk reclin'd, In magic SPENSER'S wildly-warbled song I see deserted Una wander wide Thro...
Seite 194 - THE Lord descended from above, And bowed the heavens most high; And underneath his feet he cast The darkness of the sky. 2 On cherub and on cherubim, Full royally, he rode ; And on the wings of mighty winds Came flying all abroad.
Seite 151 - She lives but in the tale of other times ; Her proud pavilions are the hermit's home, And her long colonnades, her public walks, Now faintly echo. to the pilgrim's feet, Who comes to muse in solitude, and trace, Through the rank moss reveal'd, her honour'd dust.
Seite 123 - It was my guide, my light, my all, It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm and danger's thrall, It led me to the port of peace.
Seite 45 - In fancy strikes upon my listening ear, And thrills my inmost soul. It bids me smile On the vain world, and all its bustling cares, And gives a shadowy glimpse of future bliss. Oh ! what is man, when at ambition's height, What even are kings, when balanced in the scale Of these stupendous worlds ! Almighty God ! Thou, the dread author of these wondrous works ! Say, canst thou cast on me, poor passing worm, One look of kind benevolence...
Seite 12 - Clifton ! thy sublime domain. Here lonely wandering o'er the sylvan bower, I come to pass the meditative hour ; To bid awhile the strife of passion cease, And woo the calms of solitude and peace.
Seite 126 - Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired ; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair.

Bibliografische Informationen