The Works of the English Poets, Volume 26Samuel Johnson C. Bathurst, 1779 |
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Page 10
... hoftile ftrand , 80 And thinks the destin'd fceptre in his hand . Nor fate denies , what firft his wishes name , Proud Barcelona owns his jufter claim , With With the first laurel binds his youthful brows , And 10 POEM S. ROWE'S.
... hoftile ftrand , 80 And thinks the destin'd fceptre in his hand . Nor fate denies , what firft his wishes name , Proud Barcelona owns his jufter claim , With With the first laurel binds his youthful brows , And 10 POEM S. ROWE'S.
Page 11
... proud , he threats no more from far , But nearer draws the black impending war ; He views his hoft , then fcorns the rebel town , And dooms to certain death the rival of his crown . Now fame and empire , all the nobler fpoils That urge ...
... proud , he threats no more from far , But nearer draws the black impending war ; He views his hoft , then fcorns the rebel town , And dooms to certain death the rival of his crown . Now fame and empire , all the nobler fpoils That urge ...
Page 12
... proud navy plows its watery way . Nor long they doubted , but with joy descry , Upon the chief's tall top - masts waving high , The British cross and Belgic lion fly . Loud with tumultuous clamour , loud they rear Their cries of ecftafy ...
... proud navy plows its watery way . Nor long they doubted , but with joy descry , Upon the chief's tall top - masts waving high , The British cross and Belgic lion fly . Loud with tumultuous clamour , loud they rear Their cries of ecftafy ...
Page 14
... proud they fate ; Or to be flaves or free alike prepar'd , 175 180 And trusting heaven was bound to be their guard , Untouch'd with fhame , the noble ftrife beheld , Nor once effay'd to struggle to the field ; But fought in the cold ...
... proud they fate ; Or to be flaves or free alike prepar'd , 175 180 And trusting heaven was bound to be their guard , Untouch'd with fhame , the noble ftrife beheld , Nor once effay'd to struggle to the field ; But fought in the cold ...
Page 16
... proud oppreffor to deftroy , 260 Then waves her palm , and claps her wings for joy . Such was young Ammon on Arbela's plain , * Or fuch the painter did the hero feign , Where rushing on , and fierce , he feems to ride , With graceful ...
... proud oppreffor to deftroy , 260 Then waves her palm , and claps her wings for joy . Such was young Ammon on Arbela's plain , * Or fuch the painter did the hero feign , Where rushing on , and fierce , he feems to ride , With graceful ...
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Common terms and phrases
Ah willow Albion's arms Atreus Atrides beneath blefs bleft blood boaſt breaſt Britain's Britannia's Britiſh brow Cæfar's cauſe charms crown diftant divine doft dreadful Ev'n eyes facred fafe faid fair fam'd fame fate fatire fceptre fcorn fear feas fecret fhade fhall fhining fhore fhould fide fight filent fing fire firft firſt fix'd flain fleep fmiling foes fome fong footh foul ftand ftill ftreams fuch fwain fweet fwell fword Gaul goddeſs gods grace hand heart heaven hecatomb hero himſelf Iliad Jove juſt kings lefs lyre maid monarch mortal Mufe Muſe muſt ne'er Nereids numbers nymph o'er paffion peace pleaſure praiſe pride prieſt race rage raiſe reign rife riſe ſhade ſhall ſhare ſhe ſhine ſhore ſkies ſmile ſpeak ſpread ſpring ſtand ſtars ſtate ſtill ſtood ſweet thee thefe theſe thine thofe thoſe thou thought thouſand verſe whofe whoſe youth
Popular passages
Page 187 - Oh judge, my bosom by your own. What mourner ever felt poetic fires ! Slow comes the verse that real woe inspires : Grief unaffected suits but ill with art, Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heart.
Page 195 - Tyber's fhore, (Nor mean the tafk) each breathing buft explore, Line after line with painful patience trace, This Roman grandeur, that Athenian grace ; Vain care of parts ; if, impotent of foul, Th...
Page 53 - The last humble boon that I crave, Is to shade me with cypress and yew; And when she looks down on my grave, Let her own that her shepherd was true. " Then to her new love let her go, And deck her in golden array, Be finest at...
Page 189 - Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind, A task well suited to thy gentle mind? Oh ! if sometimes thy spotless form descend : To me, thy aid, thou guardian genius, lend ! When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms, When pain distresses, or when pleasure charms, In silent whisperings purer thoughts impart, And turn from ill, a frail and feeble heart ; Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before, Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more.
Page 124 - O'er his paternal hills of snow, And into these tremendous speeches Broke forth the prophet without breeches.
Page 206 - The Sun's meridian rays Veil the horizon in one mighty blaze : Nor moon nor star in Heaven's blue arch is seen With kindly rays to silver o'er the green, Grateful to fairy eyes ; they secret take Their rest, and only wretched mortals wake.
Page 120 - And view the hero with insatiate eyes. ' In Haga's towers he waits, till eastern gales Propitious rise to swell the British sails. Hither the fame of England's monarch brings The vows and friendships of the neighb'ring kings; Mature in wisdom, his extensive mind Takes in the blended interests of mankind, The world's great patriot.
Page 190 - If pensive to the rural shades I rove, His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove: Twas there of Just and Good he...
Page 109 - Accept, great Anne, the tears their memory draws, Who nobly perish'd in their sovereign's cause : For thou in pity bid'st the war give o'er, Mourn'st thy slain heroes, nor wilt venture more. Vast price of blood on each victorious day ! (But Europe's freedom doth that price repay.) Lamented triumphs ! when one breath must tell That Marlborough conquer'd, and that Dormer fell.
Page 200 - Midst greens and sweets, a regal fabric, stands, And sees each spring, luxuriant in her bowers, A snow of blossoms, and a wild of flowers, The dames of Britain oft in crowds repair To gravel walks, and unpolluted air. Here, while the town in damps and darkness lies, They breathe in sunshine, and see azure skies ; Each walk, with robes of various dyes bespread, Seems from afar a moving tulip-bed, Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow, And chints, the rival of the showery bow.