The Life, and Posthumous Writings, of William Cowper, Esqr: With an Introductory Letter to the Right Honourable Earl Cowper, Том 4J. Seagrave, 1806 |
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Страница 10
... truth so unaccount- ably local in the use of my pen , that , like the man in the fable , who could leap well no where but at Rhodes , I seem incapable of writing at all , except at Weston . This is , as I have already told you , a de ...
... truth so unaccount- ably local in the use of my pen , that , like the man in the fable , who could leap well no where but at Rhodes , I seem incapable of writing at all , except at Weston . This is , as I have already told you , a de ...
Страница 17
... truth , one day excepted , I have not seen the day when I have been chearful since I left you . My spirits , I think , are almost constantly lower than they were ; the ap- proach of winter is perhaps the cause , and if it is , VOL . 4 ...
... truth , one day excepted , I have not seen the day when I have been chearful since I left you . My spirits , I think , are almost constantly lower than they were ; the ap- proach of winter is perhaps the cause , and if it is , VOL . 4 ...
Страница 54
... truth , that every syllable of the Letter , and of the criticisms annexed to it , were the voluntary and uncorrected production of a boy whose age was little more than twelve years . Book . Line . 1. - 184..I cannot reconcile myself 54.
... truth , that every syllable of the Letter , and of the criticisms annexed to it , were the voluntary and uncorrected production of a boy whose age was little more than twelve years . Book . Line . 1. - 184..I cannot reconcile myself 54.
Страница 64
... of illness ; but illness has not been the cause , although to say the truth , I cannot boast of having been lately very well . Yet has not this been the cause of my silence , but . your own advice , very proper and earnestly given to 64.
... of illness ; but illness has not been the cause , although to say the truth , I cannot boast of having been lately very well . Yet has not this been the cause of my silence , but . your own advice , very proper and earnestly given to 64.
Страница 68
... truth however is , that I am neither ; but have had time enough to have scribbled to you , had I been able to scribble at all . To explain this riddle I must give you a short account of my pro- ceedings . I rise at six every morning ...
... truth however is , that I am neither ; but have had time enough to have scribbled to you , had I been able to scribble at all . To explain this riddle I must give you a short account of my pro- ceedings . I rise at six every morning ...
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Adieu admirable affectionate afflicted appear bard bird-lime brother CALLIMACHUS charm Courtenay Cowper DEAR FRIEND dearest degree delight Dereham distress Eartham endeavour Esqr excellent expressed eyes favourite feel friendship genius give grace Greek hand happy haste heart Homer honour hope Hurdis Iliad John Throckmorton Johnny Johnson justly kind labour Lady Hesketh Latin live Lord Thurlow Mary melancholy memory Milton mind morning nature never nihil obliged Odyssey once passage perhaps pleasure poem poet poetical poetry Pope powers praise present quæ Qualia quam quod racter reader reason received rejoice Revd Romney SAMUEL ROSE seems shew sight soon sorrow spect spirit sublime sufferings talents Task tell tender thank thee thine thing thou tibi tion translation truly truth Unwin verse vex'd W. C. LETTER Weston Whig WILLIAM COWPER WILLIAM HAYLEY wish write
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Страница 179 - That pitiless perforce, They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind. Some succour yet they could afford ; And, such as storms allow, The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delay'd not to bestow.
Страница 154 - 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...
Страница 156 - And still to love, though prest with ill, In wintry age to feel no chill, With me is to be lovely still, My Mary ! But ah ! by constant heed I know How oft the sadness that I show Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, My Mary ! And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last — My Mary ! W.
Страница 180 - 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.
Страница 235 - Are they not his by a peculiar right, And by an emphasis of interest his, Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love That plann'd, and built, and still upholds a world So clothed with beauty for rebellious man...
Страница 433 - In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care.
Страница 235 - He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and, though poor perhaps compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
Страница 179 - Delay'd not to bestow : But he, they knew, nor ship nor shore, Whate'er they gave, should visit more.
Страница 178 - Obscurest night involved the sky, The Atlantic billows roared, When such a destined wretch as I, Washed headlong from on board, Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, His floating home forever left.
Страница 178 - His floating home for ever left. No braver chief could Albion boast Than he with whom he went, Nor ever ship left Albion's coast With warmer wishes sent.