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Adonis Anne of Windermere beam bear beauty blast blood bloom blow borne bosom brave breast breath bright calls charms cold cruel dark dear death deep distant dream earth Ev'n fair father's fear fell field fire fled flood flow flower gale gave give gloom grave green grove hand happy head hear heard heart hill hope kiss Lady Anne lake lament land leave LINES midst morn mountain mourn nature ne'er night Note o'er once peaceful plain pleasure Prince queen rest rise roam roar rocks roll rose round rude seas seek shore sigh sing skies sleep smile snow soft song sons soon sorrow sought sound Spring storm streams sweet tear tell thee thine thou thought tower vain vale wander waters wave Whilst wild winds wood Written yield youth
Strana 117 - Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes; Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm; Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That, hush'd in grim repose, expects his evening prey.
Strana 52 - Resistless rushing o'er th' enfeebled South, And gave the vanquish'd world another form. Not such the sons of Lapland : wisely they Despise th' insensate barbarous trade of war ; They ask no more than simple Nature gives; They love their mountains, and enjoy their storms. No false desires, no pride-created wants, Disturb the peaceful current of their time, And through the restless, ever-tortured maze Of pleasure or ambition bid it rage.
Strana xii - tis He who their flocks will preserve On the hills from the bleak snow and rain, And does not his kindness deserve The tribute of gratitude's strain? Sweet Lake, in whose crystalline breast This Island reposes her form, May thou be thus ever at rest, Nor move to the turbulent storm : And wilt thou afford me, green Isle, An abode of contentment and health, A refuge from sorrow and toil I have sought 'midst the tumult of wealth?
Strana 66 - ... the stormy winds do blow. Should Venus hither lead her court, and leave the cyprian bower, And love invite the blooming maid to grace this favoured tower, Then, as from lips of beauty consenting accents flow, The hail and rain may rage in vain, And the stormy whirlwinds blow. Who thinks of toil or danger, as o'er opposing rocks, Deep vales, woods, heaths, and mountains we urge the subtle fox, And when the sport is over with joy we homeward go, And the gay chase in song retrace, Though the stormy...
Strana 114 - ... opened February 27th, 1807. Mr. Astley was highly distinguished for his good nature and kindness to all classes. He addressed the following poetical reply to a lady who wished him to leave the place of his birth to reside elsewhere, because his estate was situated in a manufacturing district: — *' Thou may'st say that this land is by commerce debas'd, That its people, its manners, its customs are rude, — Should the love then of home from the breast be eras'd, Because our poor neighbours must...
Strana 65 - Whilst Bacchus holds his empire here, Diana sure will join, And when we tell our gallant runs, we'll pledge her sports in wine, For from her sports proceeding health gives the ruddy glow, Driving care and despair Though the stormy winds do blow. Should Venus hither lead her court, and leave the cyprian bower, And love invite the blooming maid to grace this favoured tower, Then, as from lips of beauty consenting accents flow, The hail and rain may rage in vain, And the stormy whirlwinds blow.
Strana 64 - YE GENTLEMEN OF ENGLAND." Hark ! how with northern fury the gales around us blow, And bear upon their angry wings the chaseforbidding snow; What though, from storms opposing, our hunting we forego, Let our wine, in bumpers shine, Though the stormy winds do blow.
Strana 82 - On, sweet my Baby ! liest thou here, So low, so cold, and so forsaken ? And cannot a sad Father's tear Thy once too lovely smiles awaken ? Ah, no ! within this silent tomb > Thy Parents' hopes receive their doom ! Oh, sweet my Baby ! round thy brow The Rose and Yew are twin'd together ; The rose was blooming — so wast thou— Too blooming far for Death to gather. The Yew was green...