The Poetical Works of Mr. William Collins

Přední strana obálky
T. Cadell, Jun. and W. Davies, 1802 - Počet stran: 124
 

Co říkají ostatní - Napsat recenzi

Na obvyklých místech jsme nenalezli žádné recenze.

Obsah

Další vydání - Zobrazit všechny

Běžně se vyskytující výrazy a sousloví

Oblíbené pasáže

Strana 95 - To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No...
Strana 78 - He threw his blood-stain'd sword, in thunder, down ; And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe...
Strana 75 - When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Throng'd around her magic cell...
Strana 9 - Or moss-crowned fountains mitigate the day, In vain ye hope the green delights to know, Which plains more blest or verdant vales bestow ; Here rocks alone, and tasteless sands are found, And faint and sickly winds for ever howl around. Sad was the hour, and luckless was the day, When first from Schiraz
Strana 46 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Strana 62 - O'erhang his wavy bed, Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn...
Strana 63 - Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum: Now teach me, maid composed, To breathe some softened strain, Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit...
Strana 77 - twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure? Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail...
Strana 79 - Pour'd through the mellow horn her pensive soul: And dashing soft from rocks around Bubbling runnels join'd the sound; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffusing, Love of peace, and lonely musing, In hollow murmurs died away.
Strana 83 - Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round ; Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound : And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings. O Music ! sphere-descended maid, Friend of Pleasure, Wisdom's aid, Why, Goddess! why, to us denied, Lay'st thou thy ancient lyre aside...

Bibliografické údaje