The remains of Henry Kirke White: of Nottingham, late of St. John's College, Cambridge ; with an account of his life, Band 2

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Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme and Brown, Paternoster-Row, 1813 - 376 Seiten
 

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Seite 130 - Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired ; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die, that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee ; How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair.
Seite 200 - Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters, and maketh the clouds his chariot, and walketh upon the wings of the wind.
Seite 198 - THE Lord descended from above, And bowed the heavens most high ; And underneath his feet he cast The darkness of the sky. 2 On cherub and on cherubim, Full royally he rode ; And on the wings of mighty winds Came flying all abroad.
Seite 199 - Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole. On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, Reason the card, but Passion is the gale ; Nor God alone in the still calm we find, He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind.
Seite 127 - It was my guide, my light, my all, It bade my dark forebodings cease; And through the storm and danger's thrall, It led me to the port of peace. Now safely moored, my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, For ever and for evermore, The Star, the Star of Bethlehem.
Seite 133 - The autumn leaf is sere and dead, It floats upon the water's bed ; I would not be a leaf, to die Without recording sorrow's sigh...
Seite 52 - In this low vale, the promise of the year, Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, Unnoticed and alone, Thy tender elegance So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms Of chill adversity, in some lone walk Of life she rears her head, Obscure and unobserved ; While every bleaching breeze that on her blows Chastens her spotless purity of breast, And hardens her to bear Serene the ills of life.
Seite 211 - Tis she ! — but why that bleeding bosom gor'd ' Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ? Oh ever beauteous, ever friendly ! tell, Is it in heaven a crime to love too well ? To bear too tender or too firm a heart, To act a Lover's or a Roman's part ? Is there no bright reversion in the sky For those...
Seite 130 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired: Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then...
Seite 45 - The hours devoted by the world to rest, And needful to recruit exhausted nature ? Say, can the voice of narrow Fame repay The loss of health? or can the hope of glory Lend a new throb unto my languid heart, Cool, even now, my feverish aching brow, Relume the fires of this...

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