Poems, by William Cowper, Esq: Together with His Posthumous Poetry, and a Sketch of His Life by John Johnson, Том 2E. Littlefield, 1841 |
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Страница 15
... lost behind a rising ground , the wood 305 Seems sunk , and shorten'd to its topmost boughs . No tree in all the grove but has its charms , Though each its hue peculiar ; paler some , And of a wannish gray ; the willow such , And poplar ...
... lost behind a rising ground , the wood 305 Seems sunk , and shorten'd to its topmost boughs . No tree in all the grove but has its charms , Though each its hue peculiar ; paler some , And of a wannish gray ; the willow such , And poplar ...
Страница 16
... lost his glare , And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime . Ye fallen avenues ! once more I mourn Your fate unmerited , once more rejoice That yet a remnant of your race survives . How airy and how light the graceful arch , Yet awful as ...
... lost his glare , And stepp'd at once into a cooler clime . Ye fallen avenues ! once more I mourn Your fate unmerited , once more rejoice That yet a remnant of your race survives . How airy and how light the graceful arch , Yet awful as ...
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... Lost nothing by comparison with ours ? Rude as thon art , ( for we return'd thee rude And ignorant , except of outward show , ) I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart And spiritless , as never to regret * Omai . 645 650 Sweets tasted ...
... Lost nothing by comparison with ours ? Rude as thon art , ( for we return'd thee rude And ignorant , except of outward show , ) I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart And spiritless , as never to regret * Omai . 645 650 Sweets tasted ...
Страница 36
... lost an empire - let it pass . True , we may thank the perfidy of France , That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown , With all the cunning of an envious shrew . And let that pass - ' twas but a trick of state- A brave man knows no ...
... lost an empire - let it pass . True , we may thank the perfidy of France , That pick'd the jewel out of England's crown , With all the cunning of an envious shrew . And let that pass - ' twas but a trick of state- A brave man knows no ...
Страница 37
... lost in his own musings , happy man ! 300 He feels the anxieties of life denied Their wonted entertainment ; all retire . Such joys has he that sings . But ah ! not such , Or seldom such , the hearers of his song . 305 Fastidious , or ...
... lost in his own musings , happy man ! 300 He feels the anxieties of life denied Their wonted entertainment ; all retire . Such joys has he that sings . But ah ! not such , Or seldom such , the hearers of his song . 305 Fastidious , or ...
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Чести термини и фразе
beauty beneath boast breath call'd cause charms death delight design'd dicebox distant divine domestick dread dream e'en earth ease ev'ning ev'ry fair fame fancy fear feed feel fieldfare flow'r folly form'd fruit give glory grace grave Guelder Rose hand happy hast heard heart Heav'n honour human John Throckmorton JOSEPH HILL king labour learn'd less liberty liv'd live lost lov'd lyre magick man-The mind mounted best musick Nature Nature's Nebaioth never o'er once peace perhaps pleas'd pleasures plebeian pow'r praise proud prove publick rest sacred scene schools seek seem'd sensual World shine skies sleep smile song soon soul sound Stamp'd sweet sweet oblivion task taste thee theme thine thou art thought toil trembling truth Twas vex'd virtue voice waste WILLIAM COWPER wind winter wisdom wisely store worth youth
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Страница 30 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Страница 30 - Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs Receive our air, that moment they are free ; They touch our country, and their shackles fall.
Страница 77 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Страница 183 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Страница 125 - The night was winter in his roughest mood; The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon Upon the southern side of the slant hills, And where the woods fence off the northern blast, The season smiles, resigning all its rage, And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue Without a cloud, and white without a speck The dazzling splendour of the scene below.
Страница 129 - The Lord of all, himself through all diffused, Sustains, and is the life of all that lives. Nature is but a name for an effect, Whose cause is God.
Страница 12 - Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, Exhilarate the spirit, and restore The tone of languid Nature. Mighty winds, That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood Of ancient growth, make music not unlike The dash of ocean on his winding shore, And lull the spirit while they fill the mind; Unnumber'd branches waving in the blast, And all their leaves fast flutt'ring, all at once.
Страница 144 - One song employs all nations ; and all cry " Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us-! " The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Страница 29 - OH for a lodge in some vast wilderness, Some boundless contiguity of shade, Where rumour of oppression and deceit, Of unsuccessful or successful war, Might never reach me more.
Страница 125 - The redbreast warbles still, but is content With slender notes, and more than half suppress'd ; Pleas'd with his solitude, and flitting light From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes From many a twig the pendent drops of ice, That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below. Stillness, accompanied with sounds so soft, Charms more than silence.