The Muse's Mirror: Being a Collection of Poems ...

J. Debrett, 1783

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Seite 35 - To form that harmony of soul and face, Where beauty shines the mirror of the mind. Such was the Maid, that in the morn of youth, In virgin innocence, in Nature's pride, Blest with each art that owes its charm to truth, Sunk in her Father's fond embrace, and died. He weeps...
Seite 217 - And thought my way was all through fairy ground, Beneath thy azure sky, and golden sun, Where first my Muse to lisp her notes begun! While pensive Memory traces back the round, Which fills the varied interval between ; Much pleasure, more of sorrow, marks the scene.
Seite 96 - Day; I hear the voice of trumpet and hautboy. No, now I see them near — oh, these are they Who come in crowds to welcome thee from Troy. Hail to the bard whom long as lost we mourn'd, From siege, from battle, and from storm return'd.
Seite 97 - Yea peers, and mighty dukes, with ribbands blue (True blue, fair emblem of unstained breast). Others I see, as noble, and more true, By no...
Seite 101 - All this, my friends, I owe to Homer's strain, On whose strong pinions I exalt my lay. What from contending cities did he gain ? 165 And what rewards his grateful country pay ? None, none were paid — why then all this for me ? These honours, Homer, had been just to thee.
Seite 38 - Gibbon shall teach me how to dress 'em In terms select and terse ; Jones teach me modesty and Greek ; Smith, how to think ; Burke, how to speak ; And Beauclerk to converse.
Seite 97 - What lady's that to whom he gently bends? Who knows not her? Ah, those are Wortley's eyes. How art thou honour'd, number 'd with her friends; For she distinguishes the good and wise.
Seite 38 - Dear knight of Plympton, teach me how To suffer, with unruffled brow, And smile serene, like thine ; The jest uncouth or truth severe, To such apply my deafest ear, And calmly drink my wine.
Seite 194 - Hail, sylvan wonders, hail ! and hail the hand, Whose native taste thy native charms display'd, And taught one little acre to command Each envied happiness of scene, and shade. Is there a hill, whose distant azure bounds The ample range of Scarsdale's proud domain, A mountain hoar, that yon...
Seite 243 - His lamp illumine, set his flames on fire. Yet still one bliss, one glory, I forbear, A darling friend whom near your heart you wear; That lovely youth, my lord, whom you must blame That I grow thus familiar with your name.

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