The Works of William Cowper: His Life and Letters, Tom 3

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Saunders & Otley, 1835
 

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Strona 252 - Then, kneeling down to heaven's eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays : Hope "springs exulting on triumphant wing," That thus they all shall meet in future days ; There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear ; While circling time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Strona 170 - Thou dumb and deaf spirit, I charge thee, come out of him, and enter no more into him. 26 And the spirit cried, and rent him sore, and came out of him : and he was as one dead ; insomuch that many said, He is dead.
Strona 208 - And the LORD went before them by day in a pillar of a cloud, to lead them the way; and by night in a pillar of fire, to give them light; to go by day and night: he took not away the pillar of the cloud by day, nor the pillar of fire by night, from before the people.
Strona 299 - Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; Another race the following spring supplies; They fall successive, and successive rise: So generations in their course decay; So flourish these, when those are pass'd away.
Strona 9 - I first took a view Of my favourite field, and the bank where they grew And now in the grass behold they are laid, And the tree is my seat that once lent me a shade ! The blackbird has fled to another retreat, Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, And the scene where his...
Strona 9 - And the scene where his melody charm'd me before Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty no more. My fugitive years are all hasting away, And I must ere long lie as lowly as they, With a turf on my breast, and a stone at my head, Ere another such grove shall arise in its stead.
Strona 168 - Can a woman forget her sucking child, that she should not have compassion on the son of her womb? yea, they may forget, yet will I not forget thee.
Strona 95 - The swain in barren deserts with surprise Sees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise ; And starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear New falls of water murmuring in his ear.
Strona 2 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the Yast lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains.
Strona 249 - Burns' poems, and have read them twice ; and though they be written in a language that is new to me, and many of them on subjects much inferior to the author's ability, I think them on the whole a very extraordinary production. He is I believe the only poet these kingdoms have produced in the lower rank of life, since Shakespeare...

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