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angels beams beauty Belfield beneath bloom blow breaſt breath bright bring charms Churchill dear death delight divine dream dwell earth EDWARD Elinor eternal fair fall fancy fate fear feel firſt flow flower foul gentle George give glory golden grace hand happy head hear heart Heaven hill hopes hour human kind LADY leave light live look Lord mind Miss morn mourn Nature never night o'er pain path peace pity plain poor praiſe pride riſe roll roſe round ſcenes ſee ſhall ſhe ſhine ſky ſmile ſoul Spring ſtill ſun ſweet tears tell thee theſe thine thing thou thought thro toil truth tune Virtue voice whoſe wing young youth
Page 159 - His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Page 158 - Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, If better thou belong not to the dawn, Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy sphere, While day arises, that sweet hour of prime.
Page 158 - Speak, ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels; for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing; ye in Heaven, On earth join, all ye creatures, to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Page 89 - It is a period nowhere to be found In all the hoary registers of time, Unless perchance in the fool's calendar. Wisdom disclaims the word, nor" holds society With those who own it.
Page 93 - How fair is the Rose ! what a beautiful flower ! The glory of April and May : But the leaves are beginning to fade in an hour, And they wither and die in a day. Yet the Rose has one powerful virtue to boast, Above all the flowers of the field ! When its leaves are all dead and...
Page 116 - Who builds a church to God, and not to Fame, Will never mark the marble with his name : Go, search it there, where to be born and die, Of rich and poor makes all the history ; Enough, that Virtue fill'd the space between ; Prov'd by the ends of being, to have been.
Page 13 - I HATE that drum's discordant sound, Parading round, and round, and round : To thoughtless youth it pleasure yields, And lures from cities and from fields, To sell their liberty for charms Of tawdry lace and glittering arms ; And when Ambition's voice commands, To march, and fight, and fall in foreign lands.
Page 121 - I have found out a gift for my fair; I have found where the wood-pigeons breed; But let me that plunder forbear, She will say 'twas a barbarous deed...