English Minstrelsy: Being a Selection of Fugitive Poetry from the Best English Authors; with Some Original Pieces, Hitherto Unpublished ; in Two Volumes

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Sir Walter Scott
John Ballantyne and Company, Manners and Miller, and Brown and Crombie, and John Murray London, 1810
 

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Seite 84 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...
Seite 210 - Our portion is not large, indeed ; But then how little do we need ! For Nature's calls are few : In this the art of living lies, To want no more than may suffice, And make that little do.
Seite 89 - There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill; Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet; Where still, 'tis said, the fairy people meet, Beneath each birken shade, on mead or hill. There, each trim lass, that skims the milky store, To the swart tribes their creamy bowls allots ; By night they sip it round the cottage door, While airy minstrels warble jocund notes.
Seite 22 - Hence, all you vain delights, As short as are the nights, Wherein you spend your folly : There's nought in this life sweet If man were wise to see't, But only melancholy...
Seite 217 - No sedge-crowned sisters now attend, Now waft me from the green hill's side, Whose cold turf hides the buried friend...
Seite 65 - TIMELY blossom, Infant fair, Fondling of a happy pair, Every morn and every night Their solicitous delight, Sleeping, waking, still at ease, Pleasing, without skill to please ; Little gossip, blithe and hale, Tattling many a broken tale, Singing many a tuneless song, Lavish of a heedless tongue ; Simple maiden, void of art, Babbling out the very heart, Yet...
Seite 89 - But think far off how, on the southern coast, I met thy friendship with an equal flame!
Seite 90 - These are the themes of simple, sure effect, That add new conquests to her boundless reign, And fill, with double force, her heart-commanding strain.
Seite 43 - The silent heart, which grief assails, Treads soft and lonesome o'er the vales, Sees daisies open, rivers run, And seeks (as I have vainly done) Amusing thought ; but learns to know That solitude 's the nurse of woe.
Seite 40 - Happy the man, and happy he alone, He who can call to-day his own: He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow, do thy worst, for I have lived to-day. Be fair or foul, or rain or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not heaven itself upon the past has power; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.

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