The Traveller, the Deserted Village, and Other Poems

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John Sharpe, 1822 - 154 Seiten
 

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Seite 48 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Seite 47 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please — How often have I loiter'd o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
Seite 65 - And steady loyalty and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade; Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart or strike for honest fame; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found' st me poor at first and keep'st me so...
Seite 48 - The dancing pair that simply sought renown By holding out to tire each other down; The swain mistrustless of his smutted face, While secret laughter tittered round the place; The bashful virgin's sidelong looks of love, The matron's glance that would those looks reprove.
Seite 64 - Return'd and wept, and still return'd to weep. The good old sire, the first prepared to go To new-found worlds, and wept for others' woe; But for himself in conscious virtue brave, He only wished for worlds beyond the grave.
Seite 23 - But me, not destined such delights to share, My prime of life in wandering spent and care; Impell'd with steps unceasing to pursue Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view : That, like the circle bounding earth and skies, Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own.
Seite 32 - To men of other minds my fancy flies, Embosom'd in the deep where Holland lies. Methinks her patient sons before me stand, Where the broad ocean leans against the land, And, sedulous to stop the coming tide, Lift the tall rampire's artificial pride. Onward, methinks, and diligently slow, The firm connected bulwark seems to grow ; Spreads its long arms amidst the wat'ry roar, Scoops out an empire, and usurps the shore.
Seite 56 - Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way, With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay, There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, The village master taught his little school. A man severe he was, and stern to view; I knew him well, and every truant knew; Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace The day's disasters in his morning face...
Seite 65 - Even now, methinks, as pondering here I stand, I see the rural virtues leave the land. Down where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail, That idly waiting flaps with every gale, Downward they move, a melancholy band, Pass from the shore, and darken all the strand. Contented toil, and hospitable care, And kind connubial tenderness, are there; And piety with wishes placed above, And steady loyalty, and faithful love.
Seite 96 - Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick If they were not his own by finessing and trick: He cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, For he knew when he pleased he could whistle them back.

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