The Muses' Bower,: Embellished with the Beauties of English Poetry, Том 2W. Plant Piercy, 1809 |
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... there a maid , in pining sadness left , Of tender parents , and of hope , bereft ? To Solima their sorrows they bewail ; To Solima they pour their plaintive tale . She hears ; and , radiant as the star of B 2 SIR W. JONES . ] 3 SOLIMA .
... there a maid , in pining sadness left , Of tender parents , and of hope , bereft ? To Solima their sorrows they bewail ; To Solima they pour their plaintive tale . She hears ; and , radiant as the star of B 2 SIR W. JONES . ] 3 SOLIMA .
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... tender sigh , Whilst all her soul sits melting in her eye : Then with a smile the healing balm bestows , And sheds a tear of pity o'er their woes , Which , as it drops , some soft - eyed angel bears Transform'd to pearl , and in his ...
... tender sigh , Whilst all her soul sits melting in her eye : Then with a smile the healing balm bestows , And sheds a tear of pity o'er their woes , Which , as it drops , some soft - eyed angel bears Transform'd to pearl , and in his ...
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... tender fingers touch'd a golden chain . Now a soft bell delighted Maia hears , That sweetly trembles on her listening ears ; Through the calm air the melting numbers float , And 12 THE PALACE OF FORTUNE . [ SIR W , JONES .
... tender fingers touch'd a golden chain . Now a soft bell delighted Maia hears , That sweetly trembles on her listening ears ; Through the calm air the melting numbers float , And 12 THE PALACE OF FORTUNE . [ SIR W , JONES .
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... tender limbs were numb'd with biting cold , And round her feet the curling billows roll'd ; With trembling arms a rifted crag she grasp'd , And the rough rock with hard embraces clasp'd . While thus she stood , and made a piercing moan ...
... tender limbs were numb'd with biting cold , And round her feet the curling billows roll'd ; With trembling arms a rifted crag she grasp'd , And the rough rock with hard embraces clasp'd . While thus she stood , and made a piercing moan ...
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... tender years : Now speak , sweet nymph , and charm my listening ears . ' · These are the groves , for ever deck'd with flowers , ' The maid replied , and these the fragrant bowers , Where Love and Pleasure hold their airy court , The ...
... tender years : Now speak , sweet nymph , and charm my listening ears . ' · These are the groves , for ever deck'd with flowers , ' The maid replied , and these the fragrant bowers , Where Love and Pleasure hold their airy court , The ...
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Abelard Abra amorous tale Arion arms beauteous beauty beneath blest bliss blooming blushing bosom bowers brails breast charms cheek Circassia clan Ross clouds coursers damsel dear death deep delight despair dread ECLOGUE Emma Emma's Ev'n ev'ry eyes fair faithless falchion fame fatal fatal ring fate fear fix'd flame flowers gales glowing golden grace Græme grief groan grove hand haste hear heart heav'n honour Hyperanthes light lord lov'd lover Maia maid morn mournful ne'er night Nut-brown Maid nymph o'er pain pale Palemon Persian plain pleasure Poison'd pow'r pray'r pride rills Rodmond rose rove scene seem'd shade shining shore sighs skies smiles soft soon sorrow soul spread stream sweet swift tears tempest tender Teribazus thee thou thought thro toil touch'd trembling vale venison view'd virtue voice waves weep wind wings woes wretched Xerxes youth
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Страница 92 - And now, lash'd on by destiny severe, With horror fraught, the dreadful scene drew near! The ship hangs hovering on the verge of death, Hell yawns, rocks rise, and breakers roar beneath!— In vain, alas! the sacred shades of yore Would arm the mind with philosophic lore; In vain they'd teach us, at the latest breath, To smile serene amid the pangs of death.
Страница 241 - Why feels my heart its long-forgotten heat ? Yet, yet I love! — From Abelard it came, And Eloisa yet must kiss the name. Dear fatal name! rest ever unreveal'd, Nor pass these lips in holy silence seal'd : 10 Hide it, my heart, within that close disguise, Where mix'd with God's, his lov'd Idea lies : O write it not my hand — the name appears Already written — wash it out, my tears!
Страница 243 - Some emanation of th' all-beauteous Mind. Those smiling eyes, attemp'ring ev'ry ray, Shone sweetly lambent with celestial day. Guiltless I gaz'd ; Heav'n listen'd while you sung ; And truths divine came mended from that tongue. From lips like those what precept fail'd to move ? Too soon they taught me 'twas no sin to love : Back thro' the paths of pleasing sense I ran, Nor wish'd an Angel whom I lov'da Man.
Страница 181 - Oh ! let him alone, For making a blunder, or picking a bone. But hang it - to poets who seldom can eat, Your very good mutton's a very good treat; Such dainties to them, their health it might hurt, It's like sending them ruffles, when wanting a shirt.
Страница 242 - Her heart still dictates, and her hand obeys. Relentless walls ! whose darksome round contains Repentant sighs, and voluntary pains : Ye rugged rocks, which holy knees have worn ; Ye grots and caverns shagg'd with horrid thorn...
Страница 246 - Not on the cross my eyes were fix'd, but you : Not grace, or zeal, love only was my call, And if I lose thy love, I lose my all.
Страница 254 - Thou, Abelard ! the last sad office pay, And smooth my passage to the realms of day ; See my lips tremble, and my eye-balls roll, Suck my last breath, and catch my flying soul ! Ah no — in sacred vestments may'st thou stand, The hallow'd taper trembling in thy hand, Present the Cross before my lifted eye, Teach me at once, and learn of me to die.
Страница 56 - The warbling birds exalt their evening lay : Blithe skipping o'er yon hill, the fleecy train Join the deep chorus of the lowing plain ; The golden lime, and orange, there were seen . On fragrant branches of perpetual green ; The crystal streams that velvet meadows lave, To the green Ocean roll with chiding wave. . The glassy Ocean hushed forgets to roar, But trembling murmurs on the sandy shore...
Страница 243 - No happier task these faded eyes pursue; To read and weep is all they now can do. Then share thy pain, allow that sad relief; Ah, more than share it, give me all thy grief.
Страница 222 - What is true passion, if unblest it dies ? And where is Emma's joy, if Henry flies ? If love, alas! be pain; the pain I bear No thought can figure, and no tongue declare.