The Works of the English Poets: Parnell and A. Philips

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H. Hughs, 1779

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Page 80 - I'll lift my voice, and tune my ftring, And thee, great Source of Nature, fing. The fun that walks his airy way, To light the world, and give the day; The moon that mines with borrow'd light ; The ftars that gild the gloomy night, The feas that roll Ľunnumber'd waves; The wood that fpreads its
Page 88 - its head ; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And loofe from drofs the filver runs below. Long had our pious friends in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God j (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, And meafur'd back his
Page 87 - His youthful face grew more ferenely fweet ; His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet; Fair rounds of radiant points inveft his hair; Celeftial odours breathe through purpled air ; And wings, whofe colours glitter'd on the day, Wide at his back their gradual plumes difplay. The form etherial burft upon his
Page 88 - wretch, whofe bolted door Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wandering poor; With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That heaven can blefs, if mortals will be kind. Confcious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compaffion
Page 81 - in thick diforder run. To clear this doubt, to know the world by fight, To find if books, or fwains, report it right, (For yet by fwains alone the world he knew, Whofe feet came wandering o'er the nightly dew) He quits his cell; the
Page 86 - round his hall repair, Warn'd by a bell, and clofe the hours with prayer. At length the world, renew'd by calm repofe, Was ftrong for toil, the dappled morn arofe; Before the Pilgrims part, the younger crept, Near the clos'd cradle where an infant flept, And writh'd his
Page 82 - way ! His raiment decent, his complexion fair, And foft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair. Then near approaching, Father, hail! he cry'd. And hail, my Son, the reverend Sire reply'd ; Words follow'd words, from queftion anfwer flow'd, And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road
Page 78 - and then perceives Thou wert not in the rocks and waves. The filent heart, which grief aflails, Treads foft and lonefome o'er the vales, . Sees daifies open, rivers run, And feeks (as I have vainly done) Amufing thought; but learns to know That Solitude 's the nurfe of woe. No real happinefs is found In trailing purple o'er the ground
Page 76 - Thefe, all the poor remains of ftate, Adorn the rich, or praife the great; Who, while on earth in fame they live, Are fenfelefs of the fame they give. Ha! while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades, The burfting earth unveils the (hades ! All flow, and wan, and wrap'd with
Page 27 - it o'er the place, They fit, they drink, and eat.; The time with frolic mirth beguile, And poor Sir Topaz hangs the while Till all the rout retreat. By this the ftars began to wink, They (hriek, they fly, the tapers fink, ĽAnd down y-drops the knight

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