Poems |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 38
Page 28
When Joy's bright sun has shed his evening - ray , And Hope's delusive meteors cease to play ; When clouds on clouds the smiling prospect close , Still thro ' the gloom thy star serenely glows : Like yon fair orb , she gilds the brow of ...
When Joy's bright sun has shed his evening - ray , And Hope's delusive meteors cease to play ; When clouds on clouds the smiling prospect close , Still thro ' the gloom thy star serenely glows : Like yon fair orb , she gilds the brow of ...
Page 30
When sober Judgment has his throne resigned , She smiles away the chaos of the mind ; And , as warm Fancy's bright Elysium glows , From Her each image springs , each colour flows . She is the sacred guest ! the immortal friend !
When sober Judgment has his throne resigned , She smiles away the chaos of the mind ; And , as warm Fancy's bright Elysium glows , From Her each image springs , each colour flows . She is the sacred guest ! the immortal friend !
Page 31
From the rude wall what bright ideas start ! Even now he claims the amaranthine wreath , With scenes that glow , with images that breathe ! And whence these scenes , these images , declare . Whence but from Her who triumphs o'er despair ...
From the rude wall what bright ideas start ! Even now he claims the amaranthine wreath , With scenes that glow , with images that breathe ! And whence these scenes , these images , declare . Whence but from Her who triumphs o'er despair ...
Page 32
Whose mind , prophaned by no unhallowed guest , Culls from the crowd the purest and the best ; May range , at will , bright Fancy's golden clime , Or , musing , mount where Science sits sublime , Or wake the Spirit of departed Time .
Whose mind , prophaned by no unhallowed guest , Culls from the crowd the purest and the best ; May range , at will , bright Fancy's golden clime , Or , musing , mount where Science sits sublime , Or wake the Spirit of departed Time .
Page 31
From the rude wall what bright ideas start ! Even now he claims the amaranthine wreath , With scenes that glow , with images that breathe ! And whence these scenes , these images , declare . Whence but from Her who triumphs o'er despair ...
From the rude wall what bright ideas start ! Even now he claims the amaranthine wreath , With scenes that glow , with images that breathe ! And whence these scenes , these images , declare . Whence but from Her who triumphs o'er despair ...
What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Common terms and phrases
ancient bids bless blest born breathe bright called charm child claim close clouds Columbus comes dark dead dear deep delight dream earth face father fear feeling fire flowers flows gaze give glows gold grave green grove half hand hear heart Heaven Hence Hist hope hour inspire land leaves light live look lost meet Memory mind moves Nature never night o'er once passed play pleasure pure reign rest rise round sacred says scene secret shade shed shine shore sigh silent sits sleep smile song soon soul speaks spirit spring stood sung sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thro trace triumphs truth turn Twas voice wake wandering watch wave weep wild wind wings wish young youth
Popular passages
Page 113 - Though Somnus in Homer be sent to rouse up Agamemnon, I find no such effects in these drowsy approaches of sleep. To keep our eyes open longer were but to act our antipodes. The huntsmen are up in America, and they are already past their first sleep in Persia.
Page 19 - And hence the charm historic scenes impart : Hence Tiber awes, and Avon melts the heart.
Page 46 - Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die, If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away ! But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light ; And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! HUMAN LIFE.
Page 102 - Cabrieres which till then he neglected it is therefore Death alone that can suddenly make man to know himself he tells the proud and insolent that they are but abjects and humbles them at the instant makes them cry complain and repent yea even to hate their...
Page 105 - Thou shalt rise up before the hoary head, and honour the face of the old man, and fear thy God : I am the LORD.
Page 107 - I began thus far to assent both to them and divers of my friends here at home ; and not less to an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labour and intent study, which I take to be my portion in- this life, joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to after-times, as they should not willingly let it die.
Page 102 - I have seen all the works that are done under the sun ; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.
Page 28 - SWEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy-haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far greener shades, far fresher flowers.
Page 51 - Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses ; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and from my friends be such frigid philosophy, as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow • warmer among...
Page 199 - The ring-dove builds and murmurs there; Close by my cot she tells her tale To every passing villager : The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, And shells his nuts at liberty. In orange groves and myrtle bowers, That breathe a gale of fragrance round, I charm the fairy-footed hours With my loved lute's romantic sound ; Or crowns of living laurel weave, For those that win the race at eve. The shepherd's horn at break of day, The ballet...