The minstrel, a collection of moral and religious poems1824 |
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Стр. 5
... heart , his head are mine ; Then what hast thou to call him thine ? Nay , rather ask , the Monarch said , What boots his hand , his heart , his head , Were what I gave remov'd away ? Thy part's an idle shape of clay . Halves , more than ...
... heart , his head are mine ; Then what hast thou to call him thine ? Nay , rather ask , the Monarch said , What boots his hand , his heart , his head , Were what I gave remov'd away ? Thy part's an idle shape of clay . Halves , more than ...
Стр. 14
... heart the wise pursuit approv'd ; But 0 , what toils oppose ! For see , ah ! see , while yet her ways With doubtful step I tread , A hostile world its terrors raise ,, Its snares delusive spread . O how shall I , with heart prepar'd ...
... heart the wise pursuit approv'd ; But 0 , what toils oppose ! For see , ah ! see , while yet her ways With doubtful step I tread , A hostile world its terrors raise ,, Its snares delusive spread . O how shall I , with heart prepar'd ...
Стр. 15
... heart within me die ; When sudden to my ear , A voice descending from on high Reprov'd my erring fear : " What tho ' the swelling surge thou see Impatient to devour ? " Rest , mortal , rest on God's decree , " And thankful own his pow'r ...
... heart within me die ; When sudden to my ear , A voice descending from on high Reprov'd my erring fear : " What tho ' the swelling surge thou see Impatient to devour ? " Rest , mortal , rest on God's decree , " And thankful own his pow'r ...
Стр. 27
... heart had roved . For he was frail as thou or I , And evil felt within , But when he felt it , heaved a sigh , And loathed the thought of sin . Such lived Aspasio , and at last Called up from earth to heaven , The gulph of death ...
... heart had roved . For he was frail as thou or I , And evil felt within , But when he felt it , heaved a sigh , And loathed the thought of sin . Such lived Aspasio , and at last Called up from earth to heaven , The gulph of death ...
Стр. 34
... heart , And his loved daughters torn by lust away , His sons , the poor inheritors of smart- -Had he religion , think ye he could pray ? Alas ! he steals him from the loathsome shed , What time moist midnight blows her venom'd breath ...
... heart , And his loved daughters torn by lust away , His sons , the poor inheritors of smart- -Had he religion , think ye he could pray ? Alas ! he steals him from the loathsome shed , What time moist midnight blows her venom'd breath ...
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amaranthine art thou Aspasio behold beneath bids blessings blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath charms clouds dark death deep divine dread earth eternal ev'n ev'ry eyes fair fate fear flow'r flowers give gloomy glory grave grief hand happy hast hear heart heav'n heav'nly honour hope and fear hopes hour Ipswich Keswick kings life's live look lord Magilligan mighty mighty Hero mind morn mortal mourn Naiad nature nature's ne'er night nymph o'er pain peace pity pleasure poor pow'r praise pride proud rage rest rill rise roll round sacred scene sceptre scorn seraph shade shore sigh Skiddaw skies smiling song sorrow soul sound stream sweet tears Tell thee thine thou thought thro toil trembling truth vale virtue voice waves weary weep Whilst wild Windermere winds wings wise woes wretch youth
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Стр. 191 - Join voices all ye living Souls: Ye Birds, That singing up to Heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise. Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep; Witness if I be silent, morn or even, To hill, or valley, fountain or fresh shade, Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. Hail universal Lord, be bounteous still To give us only good ; and if the night Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd, Disperse it, as now light dispels...
Стр. 190 - Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, Angels, for ye behold him, and with songs And choral symphonies, day without night, Circle his throne rejoicing, ye in heaven, On earth join all ye creatures to extol Him first, him last, him midst, and without end.
Стр. 168 - If I am right, thy grace impart, Still in the right to stay ; If I am wrong, oh teach my heart To find that better way...
Стр. 59 - While ladies interpose, and slaves debate. But did not Chance at length her error mend? Did no subverted empire mark his end? Did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? Or hostile millions press him to the ground? His fall was destined to a barren strand, A petty fortress, and a dubious hand; He left the name, at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
Стр. 189 - Tell fortune of her blindness ; Tell nature of decay; Tell friendship of unkindness ; Tell justice of delay: And if they will reply, Then give them all the lie. Tell arts they have no soundness, But vary by esteeming ; Tell schools they want profoundness, And stand too much on seeming : If arts and schools reply, Give arts and schools the lie. Tell faith it's fled the city; Tell how the country erreth ; Tell manhood shakes off pity ; . Tell virtue least preferreth : And if they do reply, Spare not...
Стр. 144 - The world recedes; it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death! where is thy sting?
Стр. 187 - Say to the court, it glows, And shines like rotten wood; Say to the church, it shows What's good, and doth no good. If church and court reply, Then give them both the lie. Tell potentates they live Acting by others' action; Not loved unless they give, Not strong but by a faction.
Стр. 190 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good ! Almighty ! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these Heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Стр. 154 - A land-breeze shook the shrouds And she was overset ; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave ! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done.
Стр. 191 - Of nature's womb; that in quaternion run Perpetual circle multiform, and mix And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change Vary to our great maker still new praise.