the poetical works of william cowper in three volumes

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Страница 97 - tis the twanging horn ! o'er yonder bridge, That with its wearisome but needful length Bestrides the wintry flood, in which the moon Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright, He comes, the herald of a noisy world, With spatter'd boots, strapp'd waist, and frozen locks ; News from all nations lumbering at his back.
Страница 34 - As human nature's broadest, foulest blot, Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat With stripes, that Mercy with a bleeding heart Weeps, when she sees inflicted on a beast : Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this, And having human feelings, does not "blush, And hang his head, to think himself a man...
Страница 152 - There's not a chain That hellish foes, confederate for his harm, Can wind around him, but he casts it off With as much ease as Samson his green withes. 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 38 - And manifold results, into the will And arbitration wise of the Supreme. Did not his eye rule all things, and intend The least of our concerns (since from the least The greatest oft originate); could chance Find place in his dominion, or dispose One lawless particle to thwart his plan ; Then God might be surprised, and unforeseen Contingence might alarm him, and disturb The smooth and equal course of his affairs.
Страница 46 - Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, Were he on Earth, would hear, approve, and own, Paul should himself direct me. I would trace His master-strokes, and draw from his design. I would express him simple, grave, sincere ; In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, And plain in manner...
Страница 189 - Kneels with the native of the farthest West, And ^Ethiopia spreads abroad the hand, And worships. Her report has travelled forth Into all lands.
Страница 247 - Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. Rome shall perish — write that word In the blood that she has spilt; Perish, hopeless and abhorr'd, Deep in ruin as in guilt.
Страница 40 - Suspend th' effect, or heal it? Has not God Still wrought by means since first he made the world? And did he not of old employ his means To drown it? What is his creation less Than a capacious reservoir of means Form'd for his use, and ready at his will? Go, dress thine eyes with eyesalve; ask of him, Or ask of whomsoever he has taught, And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all.
Страница 252 - I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away ! ' The meek intelligence of those dear eyes (Blest be the art that can immortalize, The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim To quench it) here shines on me still the same.
Страница 151 - Patriots have toiled, and in their country's cause Bled nobly; and their deeds, as they deserve, Receive proud recompense. We give in charge Their names to the sweet lyre. The historic muse, Proud of the treasure, marches with it down To latest times...

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