GoldsmithHarper & Brothers, 1879 - 152 |
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Strona 117 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose...
Strona 117 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree, While many a pastime circled in the shade...
Strona 122 - And steady loyalty and faithful love. And thou, sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Still first to fly where sensual joys invade; Unfit, in these degenerate times of shame, To catch the heart or strike for honest fame; Dear charming nymph, neglected and decried, My shame in crowds, my solitary pride; Thou source of all my bliss and all my woe, That found' st me poor at first and keep'st me so...
Strona 119 - Twas certain he could write, and cipher too ; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And e'en the story ran — that he could gauge. In arguing, too, the parson owned his skill, For e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ; While words of learned length and thundering sound Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around. And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, That one small head could carry all he knew.
Strona 73 - Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state, With daring aims irregularly great. Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by...
Strona 106 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please...
Strona 120 - And pinch'd with cold, and shrinking from the shower, With heavy heart deplores that luckless hour, When idly first, ambitious of the town, She left her wheel and robes of country brown.
Strona 79 - No, never from this hour to part, We'll live and love so true, The sigh that rends thy constant heart Shall break thy Edwin's too.
Strona 117 - Amidst the swains to show my book-learned skill, Around my fire an evening group to draw, And tell of all I felt and all I saw ; And, as a hare, whom hounds and horns pursue, Pants to the place from whence at first he flew — I still had hopes, my long vexations past, Here to return, and die at home at last.
Strona 114 - Mr. Mickle, the translator of " The Lusiad," and I, went to visit him at this place a few days afterwards. He was not at home ; but having a curiosity to see his apartment, we went in, and found curious scraps of descriptions of animals, scrawled upon the wall with a black lead pencil.