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appear arms bear beauty BORN breast breath bright bring charms court dear death delight earth eyes face fair fall fancy fate fear feel fire gentle give grave grow hair hand happy hast head hear heart heaven hope hour kind leave light live look Lord maid mean meet mind Muse nature ne'er never night nymph o'er once pain peace plain play pleasure poet poor praise pride rest rise round scene seen sense shade side sight sing sleep soft song soon soul sound speak spirit spring strain sure swain sweet taste tears tell thee things thou thought thousand trembling true turn Twas Wilm wind wretch youth
Página 220 - Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood ; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.
Página 332 - Wide and wider spreads the vale, As circles on a smooth canal : The mountains round, unhappy fate ! Sooner or later, of all height, Withdraw their summits from the skies, And lessen as the others rise : Still...
Página 135 - Unless good Sense preserve what Beauty gains : That Men may say, when we the Front-box grace, Behold the first in Virtue as in Face...
Página 136 - And trust me, dear ! good-humour can prevail, When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail. Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll ; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.
Página 130 - And screen'd in shades from day's detested glare, She sighs for ever on her pensive bed, Pain at her side, and Megrim at her head.
Página 112 - The world recedes; it disappears! Heaven opens on my eyes! my ears With sounds seraphic ring: Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly! O Grave! where is thy victory? O Death ! where is thy sting ? The Universal Prayer FATHER of all!
Página 121 - Planets through the boundless Sky. Some less refin'd, beneath the Moon's pale Light Pursue the Stars that shoot athwart the Night ; Or suck the Mists in grosser Air below, Or dip their Pinions in the painted Bow, Or brew fierce Tempests on the wintry Main, Or o'er the Glebe distil the kindly Rain.
Página 312 - TO EVENING. If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, chaste eve, to soothe thy modest ear, Like thy own solemn springs, Thy springs, and dying gales...
Página 42 - India's coast we sail, Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright; Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale, Thy skin is ivory so white. Thus every beauteous object that I view, Wakes in my soul some charm of lovely Sue. Though battle call me from thy arms. Let not my pretty Susan mourn ; Though cannons roar, yet safe from harms, William shall to his dear return. Love turns aside the balls that round me fly, Lest precious tears should drop from Susan's eye.