The Pleasures of Memory, with Other PoemsThomas Bensley, 1801 - Всего страниц: 187 |
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... sleeps in silent dust , Still hold communion with the wise and just ! - Yet should this Verse , my leisure's best resource , When thro ' the world it steals its secret course , Revive but once a generous wish supprest , Chase but.
... sleeps in silent dust , Still hold communion with the wise and just ! - Yet should this Verse , my leisure's best resource , When thro ' the world it steals its secret course , Revive but once a generous wish supprest , Chase but.
Стр. 12
... sleep . Ye Household Deities ! whose guardian eye Mark'd each pure thought , ere register'd on high ; Still , still ye walk the consecrated ground , And breathe the soul of Inspiration round . As o'er the dusky furniture I bend , Each ...
... sleep . Ye Household Deities ! whose guardian eye Mark'd each pure thought , ere register'd on high ; Still , still ye walk the consecrated ground , And breathe the soul of Inspiration round . As o'er the dusky furniture I bend , Each ...
Стр. 19
... sleep , When only Sorrow wakes , and wakes to weep , What spells entrance my visionary mind , With sighs so sweet , with raptures so refin'd ? Ethereal Power ! whose smile , at noon of night , Recalls the far - fled spirit of delight ...
... sleep , When only Sorrow wakes , and wakes to weep , What spells entrance my visionary mind , With sighs so sweet , with raptures so refin'd ? Ethereal Power ! whose smile , at noon of night , Recalls the far - fled spirit of delight ...
Стр. 22
... sleep ; b All rouse Reflection's sadly - pleasing train , And oft he looks and weeps , and looks again . So , when the mild TUPIA dar'd explore Arts yet untaught , and worlds unknown before , And , with the sons of Science , woo'd the ...
... sleep ; b All rouse Reflection's sadly - pleasing train , And oft he looks and weeps , and looks again . So , when the mild TUPIA dar'd explore Arts yet untaught , and worlds unknown before , And , with the sons of Science , woo'd the ...
Стр. 25
... ! Say why the pensive widow loves to weep , 1 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 . The hoary grandsire smiles the hour away , Won by 25.
... ! Say why the pensive widow loves to weep , 1 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 . The hoary grandsire smiles the hour away , Won by 25.
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
adieu Æneid bee-hives bids blest blush breast breath'd breathe bright calm cell charm charm'd Chas'd Cicero clime clouds confest controul coursers delight dreams dusky dwell echoes faded Fancy's feeling fled flings flows fond gale gaz'd gilds glows Gout grove hail hanging wood Hark heart Heath heav'n Hence Hist hues hung inspires iron tongue light lisp live lov'd lustre magic Maximian melts mind mould Muse native NAVARRE night NOTE C. P. NOTE f o'er pensive PLEASURES OF MEMORY PLUT rapture resign'd rise round rude sacred scene seraphic shade shadowy shed shine sigh silent sleep smile soft song sooth soul sphere spirit spring steals Stothard sweet swell tears thee thine thou thought thro trace trembling triumphs truth Twas twilight vale vengeance rise Venice VESPASIAN Virtue wake wave weep wild wing youth
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Стр. 65 - 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 ! SAMUEL ROGERS.
Стр. 28 - Tho' all, that knew him, know his face no more, His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, With that mute eloquence which passes speech.— And see, the master but returns to die! Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly ? The blasts of heaven, the drenching dews of earth, The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth, These, when to guard Misfortune's sacred grave, Will firm Fidelity exult to brave.
Стр. 15 - To soothe and sweeten all the cares we know ; Whose glad suggestions still each vain alarm, When nature fades and life forgets to charm; Thee would the Muse invoke! — to thee belong The sage's precept and the poet's song. What softened views thy magic glass reveals, When o'er the landscape Time's meek twilight steals!
Стр. 157 - That very law* which moulds a tear, And bids it trickle from its source, — That law preserves the earth a sphere, And guides the planets in their course.
Стр. 152 - Still, still he views the parting look she gave. Her gentle spirit, lightly hovering o'er, Attends his little bark from pole to pole ; And, when the beating billows round him roar, Whispers sweet hope to soothe his troubled soul. Carved is her name in many a spicy grove, In many a plantain-forest, waving wide ; Where dusky youths in painted plumage rove, And giant palms o'er-arch the golden tide.
Стр. 20 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise! * Each stamps its image as the other flies. Each, as the various avenues of sense Delight or sorrow to the soul dispense, Brightens or fades; yet all, with magic art, Controul the latent fibres of the heart.
Стр. 178 - She sports her lovely face at public places ; And with blue, laughing eyes, behind her fan, First acts her part with that great actor, MAN. Too soon a flirt, approach her and she flies...
Стр. 64 - When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled, A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed ; What to thy soul its glad assurance gave, Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave ? The sweet Remembrance of unblemished youth, The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth...
Стр. 163 - Mark'd by the wild wolf for his prey, From desert cave or hanging wood. And while the torrent thunders loud, And as the echoing cliffs reply, The huts peep o'er the morning cloud, Perch'd, like an eagle's nest, on high. THE BOY OF EOREMOND. " Say, what remains when Hope is fled*'' She answer'd, " Endless weeping !" For in the herdsman's eye she read Who in his shroud lay sleeping.
Стр. 14 - Childhood's loved group revisits every scene, — The tangled wood-walk, and the tufted green. Indulgent MEMORY wakes, and, lo, they live, Clothed with far softer hues than Light can give.