The poetical works, Latin and English, of Vincent BourneH. Washbourne, 1838 - 320 pages |
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Page 72 - Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear; We only part to meet again. Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee.
Page 16 - Thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view, I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise. O, how shall words with equal warmth The gratitude declare, That glows within my ravish'd heart ! But Thou canst read it there. Thy providence my life sustain'd, And all my wants redrest, When in the silent womb I lay, And hung upon the breast.
Page 80 - Nor think him all thy own. To-morrow, in the church to wed, Impatient, both prepare ! But know, fond" maid ; and know, false man, That Lucy will be there ! " Then bear my corse, my comrades, bear, This bridegroom blithe to meet, He in his wedding-trim so gay, I in my winding-sheet.
Page 18 - Ten thousand thousand precious gifts My daily thanks employ, Nor is the least a cheerful heart, That tastes those gifts with joy.
Page 16 - WHEN all thy mercies, O my God, My rising soul surveys, Transported with the view I'm lost In wonder, love, and praise...
Page 24 - O'erwhelm'd with guilt and fear, I see my Maker face to face ; O how shall I appear ! 2 If yet, while pardon may be found, And mercy may be sought, My heart with inward horror shrinks, And trembles at the thought: 3...
Page 46 - When death has reft their crown. Her bloom was like the springing flower, That sips the silver dew; The rose was budded in her cheek, Just opening to the view. But love had, like the canker-worm, Consumed her early prime: The rose grew pale, and left her cheek; She died before her time. 'Awake!
Page 20 - How are Thy servants blest, O Lord How sure is their defence ! Eternal wisdom is their guide, Their help, Omnipotence. 2 In foreign realms and lands remote, Supported by Thy care, Through burning climes they pass unhurt, And breathe in tainted air. 3...
Page 210 - Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen Much of the vanities of men ; And, sick of having seen 'em, Would cheerfully these limbs resign For such a pair of wings as thine, And such a head between 'em.
Page 124 - LITTLE inmate, full of mirth Chirping on my kitchen hearth. Wheresoe'er be thine abode, Always harbinger of good, Pay me for thy warm retreat With a song more soft and sweet ; In return thou shalt receive Such a strain as I can give.