The British Poets: Including Translations ...C. Whittingham, 1822 |
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Página 23
... hours my own ! My faults unknown ! My chief revenue in content ! Then leave one beam Of honest fame ! And scorn the labour'd monument . ! Unhurt my urn Till that great TURN When mighty Nature's self shall die , Time cease to glide ...
... hours my own ! My faults unknown ! My chief revenue in content ! Then leave one beam Of honest fame ! And scorn the labour'd monument . ! Unhurt my urn Till that great TURN When mighty Nature's self shall die , Time cease to glide ...
Página 30
... hour . ' It is more than poetically true , that Young accom- panied her to the continent : 6 I flew , I snatch'd her from the rigid North , And bore her nearer to the Sun. But in vain . Her funeral was attended with the difficulties ...
... hour . ' It is more than poetically true , that Young accom- panied her to the continent : 6 I flew , I snatch'd her from the rigid North , And bore her nearer to the Sun. But in vain . Her funeral was attended with the difficulties ...
Página 63
... hours . Where are they ? With the years beyond the flood . It is the signal that demands dispatch : How much is to be ... hour ? How poor , how rich , how abject , how august , How complicate , how wonderful , is man ! How passing wonder ...
... hours . Where are they ? With the years beyond the flood . It is the signal that demands dispatch : How much is to be ... hour ? How poor , how rich , how abject , how august , How complicate , how wonderful , is man ! How passing wonder ...
Página 67
... hour , And rarely for the better ; or the best More mortal than the common births of Fate . Each moment has its sickle , emulous Of Time's enormous scythe , whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root ; each moment plays His little ...
... hour , And rarely for the better ; or the best More mortal than the common births of Fate . Each moment has its sickle , emulous Of Time's enormous scythe , whose ample sweep Strikes empires from the root ; each moment plays His little ...
Página 68
... hour , How widow'd every thought of every joy ! Thought , busy thought ! too busy for my peace , Through the dark postern of time long elapsed , Led softly , by the stillness of the night , Led , like a murderer , ( and such it proves ...
... hour , How widow'd every thought of every joy ! Thought , busy thought ! too busy for my peace , Through the dark postern of time long elapsed , Led softly , by the stillness of the night , Led , like a murderer , ( and such it proves ...
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Términos y frases comunes
ambition angels Anne Wharton art thou beam beneath bids bleeds bless'd bliss blood divine boundless Busiris call'd dark dead death Deity divine Dorset Downs dread dreams Duke of Wharton dust e'en earth Edward Young endless eternal fair fame fate fear fire flame folly fond fool friendship future genius give glorious glory grave grief guilt happiness heart Heaven hope hour human illustrious infidel labour life's light live Lorenzo Lyric Poetry man's mankind mortal Muse Narcissa Nature Nature's ne'er Night Thoughts nought numbers o'er pain passions peace Philander Pindaric pleasure poem poet poetry praise pride proud Reason Reason sleeps rich rise sacred says scene sense shade shines sigh skies smile song soul immortal stars strange thee theme thine throne tomb triumph truth virtue Virtue's wanted wing wing wisdom wise wish wretched Young
Pasajes populares
Página 74 - And that through every stage ; when young, indeed, In full content we sometimes nobly rest, Unanxious for ourselves, and only wish As duteous sons, our fathers were more wise. At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty, and reforms his plan ; At fifty chides his infamous delay, Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve; In all the magnanimity of thought Resolves and re-resolves; then dies the same.
Página 63 - How poor, how rich, how abject, how august, How complicate, how wonderful, is man...
Página 87 - Tis greatly wise to talk with our past hours And ask them, what report they bore to heaven ; And how they might have borne more welcome news.
Página 137 - Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death, To break the shock blind nature cannot shun, And lands thought smoothly on the farther shore.
Página 64 - An heir of glory ! a frail child of dust ! Helpless immortal ! insect infinite ! A worm ! a God ! — I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost.
Página 66 - Here pinions all his wishes : wing'd by heaven To fly at infinite, and reach it there, Where seraphs gather immortality, On life's fair tree, fast by the throne of God.
Página 65 - This is the desert, this the solitude : How populous, how vital, is the grave! This is creation's melancholy vault, The vale funereal, the sad cypress gloom ; The land of apparitions, empty shades ! All, all on earth is shadow, all beyond Is substance ; the reverse is folly's creed?
Página 11 - It tells her, that his only title to the great honour he now does himself is the obligation which he formerly received from her royal indulgence. 'Of this obligation nothing is now known, unless he alluded to her being his godmother. He is said indeed to have been engaged at a settled stipend as a writer for the court. In Swift's Rhapsody on Poetry...
Página 66 - Where time, and pain, and chance, and death, expire! And is it in the flight of threescore years, To push eternity from human thought, «And smother souls immortal in the dust? A soul immortal, spending all her fires, Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarm'd, At aught this scene can threaten or indulge, Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, To waft a feather, or to drown a fly.
Página 61 - TIRED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy Sleep ! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where Fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.