Poematia Latine Partim Reddita, Partim Scripta

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G. Pickering, 1840 - 308
 

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Strona 100 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ ; Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy. Through every period of my life Thy goodness I'll pursue ; And after death in distant worlds The glorious theme renew.
Strona 58 - Busy, curious, thirsty fly, Drink with me, and drink as I ; Freely welcome to my cup, Couldst thou sip and sip it up. Make the most of life you may ; Life is short, and wears away. " Both alike are mine and thine, Hastening quick to their decline ; Thine's a summer, mine no more, Though repeated to threescore ; Threescore summers, when they're gone, Will appear as short as one.
Strona 98 - When in the slippery paths of youth, With heedless steps, I ran ; Thine arm, unseen, conveyed me safe, And led me up to man.
Strona 112 - Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Strona 4 - What though when they hear my soft strain, The virgins sit weeping around. Ah, Colin, thy hopes are in vain, Thy pipe and thy laurel resign ; Thy false one inclines to a swain, Whose music is sweeter than thine.
Strona 303 - THE SNAIL. To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall, The snail sticks close, nor fears to fall, As if he grew there, house and all Together. Within that house secure he hides, When danger imminent betides Of storm, or other harm besides Of weather.
Strona 104 - Yet then from all my griefs, O Lord, Thy mercy set me free, Whilst, in the confidence of prayer, My soul took hold on Thee.
Strona 36 - The cord slides swiftly through his glowing hands. And quick as lightning on the deck he stands. So the sweet lark, high poised in air. Shuts close his pinions to his breast (If, chance, his mate's shrill call he hear), And drops at once into her nest. The noblest captain in the British fleet Might envy William's lip those kisses sweet.
Strona 108 - Then see the sorrows of my heart, Ere yet it be too late ; And hear my Saviour's dying groans, To give those sorrows weight. VI. For never shall my soul despair Her pardon to procure, Who knows thine only Son has died To make her pardon sure.
Strona 50 - The bridesmen flock'd round Lucy dead, And all the village wept. Confusion, shame, remorse, despair, At once his bosom swell : The damps of death bedew'd his brow, He shook, he groan'd, he fell.

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