Poems, Volume 1Stereotyped and printed by Andrew Wilson for J. Johnson, 1808 |
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Common terms and phrases
beams beneath bids blest bliss boast call'd charm'd charms courser dark delight design'd divine docet dream Earth Edmonton errour ev'n ev'ry eyes fancy fear feel fire flow'rs folly fools form'd frown Gilpin give glory God's grace hand happy hast hear heart Heav'n heav'nly hope hour int'rest JOHN GILPIN joys land light Lincoln's Inn Fields lov'd lust lyre mankind mercy mind muse Nature never o'er once pass'd peace pharisee pity pleasure poet poet's poor pow'r praise pray'r pride proud prove rais'd Rome rude sacred scene scorn Scripture seem'd shine sight skies slave smile song soon sorrow soul sound Stamp'd stand stream sweet taste teach telescopic eye thee theme thine thou thought thousand toil tongue trifler truth Twas VINCENT BOURNE Virg virtue waste Whate'er wisdom wrath YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY zeal
Popular passages
Page 325 - Stop thief! stop thief! — a highwayman ! Not one of them was mute ; And all and each that pass'd that way Did join in the pursuit. And now the turnpike gates again Flew open in short space; The toll-men thinking as before, That Gilpin rode a race.
Page 319 - He grasped the mane with both his hands, And eke with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more.
Page 227 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Page 226 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea, I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Page 277 - Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.
Page 171 - The scene of all those sorrows left behind, Sought their own village, busied as they went In musings worthy of the great event : They spake of him they loved, of him whose life, Though blameless, had incurr'd perpetual strife, Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts, A deep memorial graven on their hearts.
Page 319 - John he cried ; But John he cried in vain, That trot became a gallop soon, In spite of curb and rein. So stooping down, as needs he must Who cannot sit upright, He grasp'd the mane with both his hands And eke with all his might.
Page 278 - Deem our nation brutes no longer, Till some reason ye shall find Worthier of regard, and stronger Than the colour of our kind. Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings Tarnish all your boasted powers, Prove that you have human feelings, Ere you proudly question ours ! PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS.
Page 122 - He loved the world that hated him : the tear That dropp'd upon his Bible was sincere ; Assail'd by scandal and the tongue of strife, His only answer was a blameless life ; And he that forged, and he that threw the dart, Had each a brother's interest in his heart.
Page 227 - I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own. The beasts, that roam over the plain, My form with indifference see ; They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.