Poems, Band 1J. Hatchard, 1810 |
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
amid amorous antient appear arms behold bride comfort dame deed delight Doctor JOHNSON dread drooping Duke of RUTLAND eyes fair farmers fate Father favourable fear feel fix'd fled fond friends frugal gain'd gay bride give GRANBY grief hand happy heart hide hope hour humble infant judgement kind labour life's live look'd looks Lope de Vega Lord HOLLAND Lord ROBERT MANNERS lover Lucy maid marriage mind murmurs Muse Muston neighbouring numbers Nymphs o'er opinion OVID pain PARISH REGISTER pass'd passions peace Peasants pleas'd pleasure poem poet poor praise pride prudent readers Reign o'er rest Right Honourable round rustic RUTLAND scenes shame sigh sing slave sorrow soul spirit strive Swain taste tears thee thine thou thought toil truth twas verses vex'd Village walls weary winds yield youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 7 - There poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil ; There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil ; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf; O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade, And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade ; With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound, And a sad splendour vainly shines around.
Seite 6 - But when amid such pleasing scenes I trace The poor laborious natives of the place, And see the midday sun, with fervid ray, On their bare heads and dewy temples play; While some, with feebler heads and fainter hearts, Deplore their fortune, yet sustain their parts, Then shall I dare these real ills to hide In tinsel trappings of poetic pride?
Seite 10 - Plenty smiles — alas ! she smiles for few — And those who taste not, yet behold her store, Are as the slaves that dig the golden ore, The wealth around them makes them doubly poor.
Seite 21 - And, skill'd at whist, devotes the night to play: Then, while such honours bloom around his head, Shall he sit sadly by the sick man's bed, To raise the hope he feels not, or with zeal To combat fears that e'en the pious feel? Now once again the gloomy scene explore, Less gloomy now; the bitter hour is o'er, The man of many sorrows sighs no more...
Seite 20 - The holy Stranger to these dismal walls : And doth not he, the pious man, appear, He, " passing rich with forty pounds a year?" Ah ! no ; a Shepherd of a different stock, And far unlike him, feeds this little Flock ; A jovial youth, who thinks his Sunday's task, As much as GOD or Man can fairly ask ; The rest he gives to loves and labours light, To fields the morning and to feasts the night ; None better...
Seite 18 - Say ye, opprest by some fantastic woes, Some jarring nerve that baffles your repose ; Who press the downy couch, while slaves advance With timid eye to read the distant glance ; Who with sad prayers the weary doctor tease, To name the nameless ever-new disease ; Who with mock patience dire complaints endure, Which real pain and that alone can cure...
Seite 4 - Their country's beauty or .their nymphs' rehearse ; Yet still for these we frame the tender strain, Still in our lays fond Corydons complain, And shepherds' boys their amorous pains reveal, The only pains, alas ! they never feel.
Seite 16 - There children dwell who know no parents' care; Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there! Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed, Forsaken wives, and mothers never wed ; Dejected widows with unheeded tears, And crippled age with more than childhood fears; The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they ! The moping idiot, and the madman gay.
Seite 4 - On Mincio's banks, in Caesar's bounteous reign, If Tityrus found the Golden Age again, Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong, Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song? From Truth and Nature shall we widely stray, Where Virgil, not where Fancy, leads the way? 20 Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains, Because the Muses never knew their pains: They boast their peasants...
Seite 13 - Go! if the peaceful cot your praises share, Go look within, and ask if peace be there; If peace be his, that drooping weary sire; Or theirs, that offspring round their feeble fire; Or hers, that matron pale, whose trembling hand Turns on the wretched hearth th