Poems, in Three Volumes: Vol. III Containing His Posthumous Poetry, and a Sketch of His Life by His Kinsman, John Johnson, Volume 3Timothy Bedlington, 1826 - 312 pages |
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Poems, in Three Volumes: Vol. III Containing His Posthumous Poetry ..., Volume 3 William Cowper,John Johnson, Sir No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
ANTISTROPHE appear bard beneath boast born bosom breast breath brow Cacus call'd CALLIMACHUS companion Cowper death deem'd delight Dereham divine Dryope e'en Eartham East Dereham ev'ry eyes fair fame Faunus fear fix'd flow'rs friendship gentle grace grove hand Happisburgh happy Hayley heart Heav'n Homer honour hope Inner Temple John Throckmorton Jove kind kinsman labour Lady Austen lady Hesketh lambs Latium length lyre magick Mary mind Mundsley Muse ne'er never night num'rous numbers nymphs o'er Olney once pain Pallas Phœbus poem poet pow'r praise prove publick quæ rest Rose scarcely scene seek your home shade shore sight skies smile song spirits spring sweet tears thee theme thine thoughts are due THRACIAN tibi translation Unwin verse vex'd VINCENT BOURNE voice Weston WILLIAM COWPER WILLIAM HAYLEY wish worth write youth ΕΡΙΤΑΡΗ
Popular passages
Page 246 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Page 61 - YE, who with warmth the public triumph feel Of talents dignified by sacred zeal, Here, to devotion's bard devoutly just, Pay your fond tribute due to Cowper's dust ! England, exulting in his spotless fame, Ranks with her dearest sons his favourite name.
Page 251 - Nor, cruel as it seemed, could he Their haste himself condemn, Aware that flight, in such a sea, Alone could rescue them; Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh.
Page 245 - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary ! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more, My Mary...
Page 234 - That ere through age or woe I shed my wings I may record thy worth with honour due, In verse as musical as thou art true, And that immortalizes whom it sings:— But thou hast little need. There is a Book By seraphs writ with beams of heavenly light, On which the eyes of God not rarely look, A chronicle of actions just and bright — There all thy deeds, my faithful Mary, shine ; And since thou own'st that praise, I spare thee mine...
Page 252 - Could catch the sound no more : For then, by toil subdued, he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank. No poet wept him ; but the page Of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age, Is wet with Anson's tear : And tears by bards or heroes shed, Alike immortalize the dead. I therefore purpose not, or dream, Descanting on his fate, To give the melancholy theme A more enduring date : But misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
Page 111 - The man that hails you Tom or Jack, And proves by thumps upon your back How he esteems your merit, Is such a friend, that one had need Be very much his friend indeed, .
Page 251 - He loved them both, but both in vain, Nor him beheld, nor her, again. Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline Or courage die away; But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life.
Page 218 - Oh, could'st thou speak, As in Dodona once thy kindred trees Oracular, I would not curious ask The future, best unknown, but at thy mouth Inquisitive, the less ambiguous past. By thee I might correct, erroneous oft, The clock of history, facts and events Timing more punctual, unrecorded facts Recovering, and misstated setting right...
Page 14 - Children not thine have trod my nurs'ry floor; And where the gard'ner Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapt In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capt, 'Tis now become a history little known, That once we call'd the past'ral house our own.