Specimens with Memoirs of the Less-known British Poets, Band 1

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George Gilfillan
J. Nichol, 1860
 

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Seite 104 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies ; How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries ? Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes Can judge of love, thou feel'st a lover's case ; I read it in thy looks ; thy languisht grace To me, that feel the like, thy state descries...
Seite 141 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust!
Seite 105 - Townsfolk my strength ; a daintier judge applies His praise to sleight, which from good use doth rise ; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; Others, because of both sides I do take My blood from them, who did excel in this, Think Nature me a man of arms did make. How far they shot awry ! the true cause is, STELLA looked on, and from her heavenly face Sent forth the beams which made so fair my race.
Seite 249 - Soul of the age! The applause! delight! the wonder of our stage! My Shakespeare rise! I will not lodge thee by Chaucer, or Spenser, or bid Beaumont lie A little further, to make thee a room: Thou art a monument without a tomb, And art alive still while thy book doth live And we have wits to read, and praise to give.
Seite 103 - ... comfort; here a shepherd's boy piping, as though he should never be old ; there a young shepherdess knitting, and withal singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work and her hands kept time to her voice-music.
Seite 267 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Seite 268 - Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on which they did bring, It was too wide a peck : And to say truth, for out it must, ' It look'd like the great collar, just, About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice stole in and out, As if they fear'd the light : But oh ! she dances such a way — No sun upon an Easter day Is half so fine a sight.
Seite 112 - Times go by turns, and chances change by course, From foul to fair, from better hap to worse. The sea of Fortune doth not ever flow, She draws her favours to the lowest ebb; Her tides have equal times to come and go, Her loom doth weave the fine and coarsest web; No joy so great but runneth to an end, No hap so hard but may in fine amend.
Seite 200 - I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend Your force, to break, blow, burn and make me new. I, like an usurped town, to another due, Labor to admit you, but oh, to no end, Reason your viceroy in me, me should defend, But is captived, and proves weak or untrue. Yet dearly I love you...
Seite 102 - There were hills which garnished their proud heights with stately trees : humble valleys whose base estate seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers; meadows enamelled with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers ; thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade were witnessed so to, by the cheerful disposition of many well-tuned birds ; each pasture stored with sheep feeding with sober security, while the pretty lambs with bleating oratory craved...

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