The works of George Crabbe, Volume 1

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Page xxxvi - 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 11 - Thus groan the old, till, by disease opprest, They taste a final wo, and then they rest. Theirs is yon house that holds the parish poor, Whose walls of mud scarce bear the broken door ; There, where the putrid vapours flagging play, And the dull wheel hums doleful through the day ; There children dwell who know no parents...
Page 12 - 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 xxxvi - ... 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...
Page 13 - 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 10 - A transient pleasure sparkles in his eyes, He hears and smiles, then thinks again and sighs: For now he journeys to his grave in pain; The rich disdain him; nay, the poor disdain: Alternate masters now their slave command, Urge the weak efforts of his feeble hand, And, when his age attempts its task in vain, With ruthless taunts, of lazy poor complain.
Page 12 - ... happiest they! The moping idiot and the madman gay. Here too the sick their final doom receive, Here brought, amid the scenes of grief, to grieve, Where the loud groans from some sad chamber flow...
Page xxxvi - ... afar, And to the ragged infant threaten war; 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 73 - 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 75 - Tis Phoebe Dawson, pride of Lammas Fair; Who took her lover for his sparkling eyes, Expressions warm, and love-inspiring lies : Compassion first assail'd her gentle heart, For all his suffering, all his bosom's smart : "And then his prayers! they would a savage move, "And win the coldest of the sex to love :"— But ah!

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