A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes. By Several Hands, Volume 6Robert Dodsley J. Hughs, 1765 - English poetry |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 42
Page 6
... they are celebrated for the friendship which the Mufes bear them , and for the true infpiration which temperance only can receive : in oppofition to the enthufiafm of the more licentious poets . H YMN TO THE NAI A D S. Ο ' ARGUMEN T. ...
... they are celebrated for the friendship which the Mufes bear them , and for the true infpiration which temperance only can receive : in oppofition to the enthufiafm of the more licentious poets . H YMN TO THE NAI A D S. Ο ' ARGUMEN T. ...
Page 31
... HASTINGS , these are they , Who challenge to themselves thy country's love : The true ; the constant : who alone can weigh , 15 What glory fhould demand , or Liberty approve ! But But let their works declare them . Thy free powers ( 31 ) '
... HASTINGS , these are they , Who challenge to themselves thy country's love : The true ; the constant : who alone can weigh , 15 What glory fhould demand , or Liberty approve ! But But let their works declare them . Thy free powers ( 31 ) '
Page 46
... true harmony , His grateful homage pays . Far other strains thine elder ear With pleas'd attention wont to hear , When he , who ftrung the Latian lyre , And he , who led th ' Aonian quire From From Mantua's reedy lakes with ofiers crown ...
... true harmony , His grateful homage pays . Far other strains thine elder ear With pleas'd attention wont to hear , When he , who ftrung the Latian lyre , And he , who led th ' Aonian quire From From Mantua's reedy lakes with ofiers crown ...
Page 54
... true joy , and therefore Heaven's command . The wretch who riots thanks his God amifs : Who ftarves , rejects the bounties of his hand . Mark , while the Marne in yon full channel glides , How fmooth his courfe , how Nature fmiles ...
... true joy , and therefore Heaven's command . The wretch who riots thanks his God amifs : Who ftarves , rejects the bounties of his hand . Mark , while the Marne in yon full channel glides , How fmooth his courfe , how Nature fmiles ...
Page 58
... true Fame can rife , The only happy is the Self - approv❜d . EL EGY III . To the Right Honourable George Simon Harcourt , Vifc . Newnham . Written at ROME , 1756 . ES , noble Youth , ' tis true ; the fofter arts , YES , The sweetly ...
... true Fame can rife , The only happy is the Self - approv❜d . EL EGY III . To the Right Honourable George Simon Harcourt , Vifc . Newnham . Written at ROME , 1756 . ES , noble Youth , ' tis true ; the fofter arts , YES , The sweetly ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
bard beauty behold beneath beſt beſtow bleffings bleft boaſt bofom breaſt charms Chlorinda cloſe diftant eaſe Ev'n facred fafe fage fair fame fate feat fenfe fhade fhall fhew fhine fide figh filent fince firſt flow'rs fmile foft folar folemn fome fong fons foul fpring freſh friendſhip ftate ftill fuch fure fweet genius glory Goddeſs grace grove gueſt hand heart heav'n himſelf inſpires juſt laſt lefs loft lyre mind moſt Mufe muft Muſe muſt Naiads ne'er numbers Nymphs o'er paffion peace plain pleas'd pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe purſue raiſe reft reſt rife rofe ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhould ſky ſmile ſome ſpeak ſpirit ſpread ſtand ſtate ſteps ſtill ſtood ſtrains ſtream ſtrong ſweet taſk taſte thee theſe thofe thoſe thou thouſand toil truth vale virtue Whilft whofe Whoſe wife wings Wiſdom youth
Popular passages
Page 391 - On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air And, with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Page 397 - That lost in long futurity expire. Fond impious man, think'st thou yon sanguine cloud Raised by thy breath, has quench'd the orb of day? To-morrow he repairs the golden flood And warms the nations with redoubled ray. Enough for me : with joy I see The different doom our fates assign : Be thine Despair and sceptred Care, To triumph and to die are mine.
Page 392 - Far, far aloof th' affrighted ravens sail ; The famish'd eagle screams, and passes by. Dear lost companions of my tuneful art, Dear as the light that visits these sad eyes, Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep. They do not sleep. On yonder cliffs, a...
Page 392 - Dear as the ruddy drops that warm my heart, Ye died amidst your dying country's cries — No more I weep : they do not sleep ! On yonder cliffs, a grisly band, I see them sit; they linger yet Avengers of their native land : With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line.
Page 389 - Closed his eyes in endless night. Behold where Dryden's less presumptuous car Wide o'er the fields of Glory bear Two coursers of ethereal race, With necks in thunder clothed, and long-resounding pace Hark, his hands the lyre explore! Bright-eyed Fancy, hovering o'er, Scatters from her pictured urn Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn. But ah ! 'tis heard no more — Oh ! Lyre divine, what daring Spirit Wakes thee now ! Tho...
Page 392 - With me in dreadful harmony they join, And weave with bloody hands the tissue of thy line. II. 1 'Weave the warp and weave the woof, The winding-sheet of Edward's race; Give ample room and verge enough The characters of hell to trace...
Page 393 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Page 385 - Perching on the sceptred hand Of Jove, thy magic lulls the feather'd king With ruffled plumes, and flagging wing : Quench'd in dark clouds of slumber lie The terror of his beak, and lightnings of his eye.
Page 389 - Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate ; Beneath the good how far — but far above the great ! ODE VI.
Page 388 - This pencil take (she said), whose colours clear Richly paint the vernal year : Thine too these golden keys, immortal Boy ! This can unlock the gates of joy ; Of horror that...