Poems of William Cowper, Esq., with a New Memoir: Compiled from Johnson, Southey and Other Sources

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Uriah Hunt, 1846 - 284
 

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Strona 228 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary ! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary...
Strona 73 - There stands the messenger of truth: there stands The legate of the skies! — His theme divine, His office sacred, his credentials clear. By him the violated law speaks out Its thunders ; and by him, in strains as sweet As angels use, the gospel whispers peace.
Strona 75 - Would I describe a preacher, such as Paul, ** Were he on earth, would hear, approve, and own, Paul should himself direct me. I would trace His master-strokes, and draw from his design. I would express him simple, grave, sincere; In doctrine uncorrupt; in language plain, ** And plain in manner; decent, solemn, chaste, And natural in gesture ; much impressed Himself, as conscious of his awful charge, And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds May feel it too; affectionate in look, ** And tender in...
Strona 246 - Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Strona 212 - And we will then repair Unto the Bell at Edmonton, All in a chaise and pair. 'My sister, and my sister's child, Myself, and children three, Will fill the chaise; so you must ride On horseback after we.
Strona 216 - Well done ! As loud as he could bawl. Away went Gilpin — who but he ? His fame soon spread around, He carries weight ! he rides a race ! Tis for a thousand pound...
Strona 40 - Nor less composure waits upon the roar Of distant floods, or on the softer voice Of neighbouring fountain, or of rills that slip Through the cleft rock, and chiming as they fall Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length In matted grass, that with a livelier green Betrays the secret of their silent course.
Strona 217 - to tarry there, For why? his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew Shot by an archer strong, So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song.
Strona 267 - Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle, Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay; So thou, with sails how swift! hast reach'd the shore ' Where tempests never beat nor billows roar," * And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchor'd by thy side.
Strona 215 - His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more. Away went Gilpin neck or nought, Away went hat and wig, He little dreamt when he set out Of running such a rig.

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