The British Poets: Including Translations ...

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C. Whittingham, 1822
 

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Seite 186 - The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills; And let me catch it as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound His stupendous praise, whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
Seite 221 - I care not, Fortune, what you me deny: You cannot rob me of free Nature's grace; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve: Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave: Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Seite 188 - Should fate command me to the farthest verge Of the green earth, to distant barbarous climes, Rivers unknown to song ; where first the sun Gilds Indian mountains, or his setting beam Flames on the Atlantic isles, 'tis nought to me ; Since God is ever present, ever felt, In the void waste as in the city full ; And where He vital breathes, there must be joy.
Seite 194 - Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood ; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.
Seite 149 - Conceal'd, and fattens with the richest sap : These are not wanting ; nor the milky drove, Luxuriant, spread o'er all the lowing vale ; Nor bleating mountains ; nor the chide of streams, And hum of bees...
Seite 170 - We, shifting for relief, would play the shapes Of frolic fancy ; and incessant form Those rapid pictures, that assembled train Of fleet ideas, never join'd before, Whence lively Wit excites to gay surprise ; Or folly-painting Humour, grave himself, Calls Laughter forth, deep-shaking every nerve.
Seite 17 - Seasons" wonders that he never saw before what Thomson shews him, and that he never yet has felt what Thomson impresses.
Seite 40 - Nature's great command may be obey'd : Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive Indulged in vain. Some to the holly-hedge NestKng repair, and to the thicket some; Some to the rude protection of the thorn Commit their feeble offspring. The cleft tree Offers its kind concealment to a few, Their food its insects, and its moss their nests. Others apart far in the grassy dale, Or roughening waste, their humble texture weave...
Seite 185 - And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In Winter awful thou ! with clouds and storms Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, Majestic darkness ! on the whirlwind's wing, Riding sublime , thou bidst the world adore, And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
Seite 99 - Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around, Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all The stretching landscape into smoke decays!

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