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arms beam bear beauty beneath bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright charms cold dark dear death deep delight earth EPIGRAM fair fall fame fancy fate Father fear feel field fire flow gentle give glow grace green grief hand head hear heart Heaven hills hope hour kind late leave light live look meet mind morn mourn Muse Nature ne'er never night notes o'er once pain pale peace plain pleasure Poems praise pride rest rise round sacred scenes seek shade sigh silent smile soft song soon soothe sorrow soul spirit spread spring steps strain stream sweet tear tender thee thine thou thought thro vain vale verse virtue voice wave wild winds wings wish youth
Page 416 - No ; cast by Fortune on a frowning coast, Which neither groves nor happy valleys boast ; 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 416 - There poppies nodding, mock the hope of toil , There the blue bugloss paints the sterile soil ; Hardy and high, above the slender sheaf, The slimy mallow waves her silky leaf ; O'er the young shoot the charlock throws a shade, And clasping tares cling round the sickly blade With mingled tints the rocky coasts abound, And a sad splendour vainly shines around.
Page 415 - 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 ? Yes, thus the Muses sing of happy swains, Because the Muses never knew their pains : They boast their peasants...
Page 423 - Anon, a figure enters, quaintly neat, All pride and business, bustle and conceit ; With looks unalter'd by these scenes of woe, With speed that, entering, speaks his haste to go, He bids the gazing throng around him fly, And carries fate and physic in his eye...
Page 423 - Ah! no; a shepherd of a different stock, And far unlike him, feeds this little flock: A jovial youth, who thinks his Sunday's task As much as God or man can fairly ask ; The rest he gives to loves and labours light, To fields the morning, and to feasts the night; None better...
Page 421 - 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 421 - Are others' gain, but killing cares to me ; To me the children of my youth are lords, Cool in their looks, but hasty in their words : Wants of their own demand their care ; and who...
Page 422 - 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...
Page 415 - I grant indeed that fields and flocks have charms For him that grazes or for him that farms; But when amid such pleasing scenes I trace The poor laborious natives of the place, And see the mid-day sun with fervid ray On their bare heads and dewy temples play, While some, with feebler heads and fainter hearts Deplore their fortune yet sustain their parts, Then shall I dare these real ills to hide In tinsel trappings of poetic pride?
Page 416 - With sullen woe display'd in every face ; Who, far from civil arts and social fly, And scowl at strangers with suspicious eye. Here too the lawless merchant of the main. Draws from his plough th' intoxicated swain; Want only claim'd the labour of the day, But vice now steals his nightly rest away.