Harvest-home: consisting of supplementary Gleanings, original dramas and poems, contributions of literary friends, and select re-publications, Volume 3

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Page 191 - And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast : There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow ; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.
Page 546 - But HOPE can here her moonlight vigils keep, And sing to charm the spirit of the deep : Swift as yon streamer lights the starry pole, Her visions warm the watchman's pensive soul...
Page 544 - Society and conversation, therefore, are the most powerful remedies for restoring the mind to its tranquillity, if, at any time, it has unfortunately lost it; as well as the best preservatives of that equal and happy temper, which is so necessary to self-satisfaction and enjoyment. Men of retirement and speculation, who are apt to sit brooding at home over either grief or resentment, though they may often have more humanity, more generosity, and a nicer sense of honour, yet seldom possess that equality...
Page 543 - How selfish soever man may be supposed, there are evidently some principles in his nature, which interest him in the fortune of others, and render their happiness necessary to him, though he derives nothing from it, except the pleasure of seeing it.
Page 543 - ... with their happiness. We enter into their gratitude towards those faithful friends who did not desert them in their difficulties ; and we heartily go along with their resentment against those perfidious traitors who injured, abandoned, or deceived them.
Page 547 - Treads the loved shore he sigh'd to leave behind ; Meets at each step a friend's familiar face, And flies at last to Helen's long embrace ; Wipes from her cheek the rapture-speaking tear, And clasps, with many a sigh, his children dear ! While, long neglected, but at length caress'd, His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest, Points to the master's eyes (where'er they roam) His wistful face, and whines a welcome home.
Page 545 - Rome's great forum, who but hears him roll His moral thunders o'er the subject soul ! And hence that calm delight the portrait gives : We gaze on every feature till it lives ! Still the fond lover sees the absent maid ; And the lost friend still lingers in his shade ! Say why the pensive widow loves to weep, When on her knee she rocks her babe to sleep : Tremblingly still, she lifts his veil to trace The father's features in his infant face.
Page 213 - Weak with nice sense, the chaste MIMOSA stands, From each rude touch withdraws her timid hands; Oft as light clouds o'erpass the Summer-glade, Alarmed she trembles at the moving shade; And feels, alive through all her tender form, The whisper'd murmurs of the gathering storm; Shuts her sweet eye-lids to approaching night; And hails with freshen'd charms the rising light.
Page 545 - Glows in the tiger's den, the serpent's nest, *brm of varied life imprest. The social tribes its choicest influence hail:— And when the drum beats briskly in the gale, The war-worn courser charges at the sound, And with young vigour wheels the pasture round.
Page 463 - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.

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