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bids blest blue breast breathe bright busy calm cell charm close clouds controul delight dreams face fearful feeling fire fled flings flows fond gale give glows grove hand hear heart Heath Hence High Hist hope hues hung inspires light live look lov'd mark meet MEMORY mind Muse native nature night NOTE o'er once pass pensive play pleasure points pure reflected rich rise rock round rude sacred scene seat sense shade shed shine sigh silent sleep smile soft soon soul sphere spirit spring steals Stothard stream sweet swell tears thee thine thou thought thro trace triumphs truth turns Twas vale various Virtue voice wake wave weep wild wind wing wise wish youth
Page 171 - MINE be a cot beside the hill, A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear , A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall, shall linger near. The swallow, oft, beneath my thatch Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest.
Page 30 - Tho' all, that knew him, know his face no more, His faithful dog shall tell his joy to each, With that mute eloquence which passes speech.— And see, the master but returns to die! Yet who shall bid the watchful servant fly ? The blasts of heaven, the drenching dews of earth, The wanton insults of unfeeling mirth, These, when to guard Misfortune's sacred grave, Will firm Fidelity exult to brave.
Page 157 - OH ! that the Chemist's magic art Could crystallize this sacred treasure ! Long should it glitter near my heart, A secret source of pensive pleasure. The little brilliant, ere it fell, Its lustre caught from CHLOE'S eye; Then, trembling, left its coral cell— The spring of Sensibility ! • • Sweet drop of pure and pearly light! In thee die rays of Virtue shine; More calmly clear, more mildly bright, Than any gem that gilds the mine.
Page 172 - MINE be a cot beside the hill; A bee-hive's hum shall soothe my ear; A willowy brook that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow oft beneath my thatch Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; Oft shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal, a welcome guest. Around my ivied porch shall spring Each fragrant flower that drinks the dew ; And Lucy at her wheel shall sing In russet gown and apron blue.
Page 167 - The ring-dove builds and murmurs there; Close by my cot she tells her tale To every passing villager : The squirrel leaps from tree to tree, And shells his nuts at liberty. In orange groves and myrtle bowers, That breathe a gale of fragrance round, I charm the fairy-footed hours With my loved lute's romantic sound ; Or crowns of living laurel weave, For those that win the race at eve. The shepherd's horn at break of day, The ballet...
Page 92 - ... the several degrees of angels may probably have larger views, and some of them be endowed with capacities able to retain together, and constantly set before them, as in one picture, all their past knowledge at once.
Page 66 - When thy last look, ere thought and feeling fled, A mingled gleam of hope and triumph shed ; What to thy soul its glad assurance gave, Its hope in death, its triumph o'er the grave ? The sweet Remembrance of unblemished youth, The still inspiring voice of Innocence and Truth...
Page 66 - Hail, MEMORY, hail ! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumbered treasures shine ! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey, And Place and Time are subject to thy sway ! Thy pleasures most we feel, when most alone ; The only pleasures we can call our own.
Page 14 - Childhood's loved group revisits every scene, — The tangled wood-walk, and the tufted green. Indulgent MEMORY wakes, and, lo, they live, Clothed with far softer hues than Light can give.