Poems, Volume 1

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University Press, 1812
 

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Page 16 - There children dwell, who know no parents' care; Parents, who know no children's love, dwell there! Heart-broken matrons on their joyless bed, Forsaken wives, and mothers never wed; Dejected widows with unheeded tears, And crippled age with more than childhood fears; The lame, the blind, and, far the happiest they! The moping idiot and the madman gay.
Page 6 - Where other cares than those the Muse relates, And other shepherds dwell with other mates; By such examples taught, I paint the Cot, As Truth will paint it, and as Bards will not...
Page 4 - On Mincio's banks, in Caesar's bounteous reign, If Tityrus found the Golden Age again, Must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong, Mechanic echoes of the Mantuan song? From Truth and Nature shall we widely stray, Where Virgil, not where Fancy, leads the way? 20 Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains, Because the Muses never knew their pains: They boast their peasants...
Page 104 - And pleased by manners most unlike her own ; Loud though in love, and confident though young; Fierce in his air, and voluble of tongue; By trade a tailor, though, in scorn of trade, He served the 'Squire, and brush'd the coat he made.
Page 10 - Plenty smiles — alas! she smiles for few— And those who taste not, yet behold her store, Are as the slaves that dig the golden ore, The wealth around them makes them doubly poor.
Page 10 - As on their neighbouring beach yon swallows stand, And wait for favouring winds to leave the land; While still for flight the ready wing is spread: So waited I the favouring hour, and fled; Fled from these shores where guilt and famine reign, And cried, Ah! hapless they who still remain...
Page 21 - Up yonder hill, behold how sadly slow The bier moves winding from the vale below ; There lie the happy dead, from trouble free, And the glad parish pays the frugal fee...
Page 21 - And, skill'd at whist, devotes the night to play: Then, while such honours bloom around his head, Shall he sit sadly by the sick man's bed, To raise the hope he feels not, or with zeal To combat fears that e'en the pious feel? Now once again the gloomy scene explore, Less gloomy now; the bitter hour is o'er, , The man of many sorrows sighs no more.
Page 18 - Who press the downy couch, while slaves advance With timid eye to read the distant glance; Who with sad prayers the weary doctor tease, To name the nameless ever-new disease; Who with mock patience dire complaints endure, Which real pain and that alone can cure ; How would ye bear in real pain to lie, Despised, neglected, left alone to die?
Page 22 - ... their little court; The pliant bow he form'd, the flying ball, The bat, the wicket, were his labours all; Him now they follow to his grave, and stand, Silent and sad, and gazing hand in hand; While bending low, their eager eyes explore The mingled relics of the parish poor. The bell tolls late, the moping owl flies round, Fear marks the flight and magnifies the sound...

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