Solitude:, Volumen1

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Vernor & Hood, 1804 - 330 páginas
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Página 164 - ... shade. In winter fire. Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years slide soft away. In health of body, peace of mind, Quiet by day. Sound sleep by night; study and ease, Together mixt; sweet recreation: And innocence, which most does please With meditation.
Página 276 - With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; And, in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king ? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Página 276 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge, And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Página 164 - Blest, who can unconcern'dly find Hours, days, and years, slide soft away In health of body; peace of mind; Quiet by day ; Sound sleep by night; study and ease Together mix'd; sweet recreation, And innocence, which most does please With meditation.
Página 35 - What woful stuff this madrigal would be In some starved hackney sonneteer or me ! But let a lord once own the happy lines, How the wit brightens ! how the style refines ! Before his sacred name flies every fault, And each exalted stanza teems with thought.
Página 258 - 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?
Página 258 - The Dying Christian to his Soul: Ode Vital spark of heav'nly flame! Quit, oh quit this mortal frame: Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying. Oh the pain, the bliss of dying! Cease, fond Nature, cease thy strife, And let me languish into life. Hark! they whisper; Angels say. Sister spirit, come away.
Página 163 - HAPPY the man whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air, In his own ground ; Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in Summer yield him shade, In Winter fire.
Página 300 - Pursuing and pursued, each other's prey ; As wolves for rapine, as the fox for wiles, Till Death, that mighty hunter, earths them all. Why all this toil for triumphs of an hour ? What though we wade in wealth, or soar in fame ? Earth's highest station ends in, ' Here he lies ;' And ' dust to dust
Página 271 - Know ye not then, said Satan fill'd with scorn, Know ye not me ? ye knew me once no mate For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar; Not to know me argues yourselves unknown, The lowest of your throng; or if ye know, Why ask ye, and superfluous begin Your message, like to end as much in vain ? To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with scorn.

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