A Collection of Poems: In Six Volumes, Volumen3

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J. Hughs, 1765
 

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Página 92 - When sinking under a new weight of chain, Or more rebellious might perhaps repine, When tax'd to dow'ra titled Concubine, But the Priest christens all a Right Divine.
Página 159 - Whofe greateft failing is her love, And that her love for you. Say, would you ufe that very pow'r You from her fondnefs claim, To ruin, in one fatal hour, A life of...
Página 193 - He digs no longer in th' exhaufted mine, But feeks preferment, as the laft refort, Cringes each morn at levees, bows at court, And, from the hand he hates, implores fupport...
Página 237 - I hear the solemn sound, Which midnight echoes waft around, And sighing gales repeat: Fav'rite of Pallas ! I attend, . And, faithful to thy summons, bend At Wisdom's awful seat.
Página 206 - Almighty cruel and fevere,' / . Predeftinating fome without pretence To heav'n, and fome to hell for no offence ; Inflifting endlefs pains for tranfient crimes, And fav'ring fe&s or nations, men or times. To pleafe him, none would foolifhly forbear,] Or food, or reft, or itch in fhirts of hair, Or deem it merit to believe, or teach, What reafon...
Página 125 - With bufkin'd leg, and bofom bare ; Thy waift with myrtle-girdle bound, Thy brows with Indian feathers crown'd ; Waving in thy fnowy hand An all-commanding magic wand; Of pow'r to bid frefh gardens blow 'Mid chearlefs Lapland's barren fnow; Whofe rapid wings thy flight convey, Thro...
Página 113 - Ye green-rob'd Dryads, oft at dusky eve By wondering shepherds seen, to forests brown, To unfrequented meads, and pathless wilds, Lead me from gardens deck'd with art's vain pomps. Can gilt alcoves, can marble-mimic gods, Parterres embroider'd, obelisks, and urns, Of high relief; can the long, spreading lake, Or vista lessening to the sight; can Stow, With all her Attic fanes, such raptures raise, As the thrush-haunted copse, where lightly leaps The fearful fawn the rustling leaves along, And the...
Página 147 - And all the men are in the hay! Entrance to gain is fomething hard, The dogs all bark, the gates are barr'd ; The yard's with lines of linen...
Página 269 - IF truth can fix thy wav'ring heart, Let Damon urge his claim, He feels the paffion void of art, The pure, the conftant flame. • Tho...
Página 224 - The tool of a party, in ftate or in church : From dull thinking blockheads, as fober as Turks, And petulant bards who repeat their own works : From all the gay things of a drawing-room...

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