Miscellaneous poetry

Przednia okładka
B. Fellowes, 1841 - 151
 

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Strona 144 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
Strona 138 - The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws, Her coat that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet and emerald eyes, She saw, and purr'd applause. Still had she gazed, but midst the tide Two angel forms were seen to glide, The genii of the stream: Their scaly armour's Tyrian hue, Through richest purple, to the view Betrayed a golden gleam.
Strona 142 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Strona 140 - A fav'rite has no friend ! From hence, ye beauties, undeceived, Know, one false step is ne'er retrieved, And be with caution bold. Not all that tempts your wand'ring eyes, And heedless hearts, is lawful prize ; Nor all that glisters gold. ODE III. ON A DISTANT PROSPECT OF ETON COLLEGE. MKNANDER. YE distant spires, ye antique towers, That crown the wat'ry glade, Where grateful Science still adores Her Henry's...
Strona 138 - Through richest purple, to the view Betrayed a golden gleam. The hapless Nymph with wonder saw: A whisker first, and then a claw With many an ardent wish She stretched, in vain, to reach the prize— What female heart can gold despise...
Strona 146 - Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle. To glad me with its soft black eye, But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die ! Now too — the joy most like divine Of all I ever dreamt or knew.
Strona 136 - TWAS on a lofty vase's side, Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers, that blow ; Demurest of the tabby kind, The pensive Selima, reclined, Gazed on the lake below. Her conscious tail her joy declared ; The fair round face, the snowy beard, The velvet of her paws, Her coat, that with the tortoise vies, Her ears of jet, and emerald eyes, She saw ; and purr'd applause.
Strona 42 - O dearest, dearest boy ! my heart For better lore would seldom yearn, Could I but teach the hundredth part Of what from thee I learn.
Strona 54 - Another misery there is in affection ; that whom we truly love like our own selves, we forget their looks, nor can our memory retain the idea of their faces ; and it is no wonder, for they are ourselves, and our affection makes their looks our own.
Strona 32 - Tis fled already. — How the innocent, As in a gentle slumber, pass away ! But to cut off the knotty thread of life In guilty men, must force stern Atropos To use her sharp knife often.

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