Cowper, Illustrated by a Series of Views: In, Or Near, the Park of Weston-Underwood, Bucks. Accompanied with Copious Descriptions and a Brief Sketch of the Poet's Life

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Vernor and Hood, 1803 - 51 Seiten
 

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Seite 44 - Stand, never overlook'd our favourite elms, That screen the herdsman's solitary hut; While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, The sloping land recedes into the clouds; Displaying on its varied side the grace Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tower, Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells Just undulates upon the listening ear; Groves, heaths, and smoking villages remote.
Seite 7 - FAR from the world, O Lord, I flee, From strife and tumult far ; From scenes where Satan wages still His most successful war. The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree ; And seem by thy sweet bounty made For those who follow thee.
Seite 19 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary! For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign; Yet, gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Seite 34 - Seems sunk, and shorten'd to its topmost boughs. No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar ; paler some, And of a wannish gray ; the willow such, And poplar, that with silver lines his leaf, And ash far-stretching his umbrageous arm ; Of deeper green the elm ; and deeper stillr Lord of the woods, the long-surviving oak...
Seite 18 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Seite 23 - And watched a poet through misfortune's vale. Her spotless dust, angelic guards defend ! It is the dust of Unwin, Cowper's friend ! That single title in itself is fame, For all who read his verse revere her name.
Seite 54 - That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, Charms more than silence. Meditation here May think down hours to moments. Here the heart May give an useful lesson to the head, And learning wiser grow without his books.
Seite 36 - But that the lord of this enclosed demesne, Communicative of the good he owns, Admits me to a share : the guiltless eye Commits no wrong, nor wastes what it enjoys.
Seite 8 - I kept him for his humour's sake. For he would oft beguile My heart of thoughts, that made it ache, And force me to a smile.

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