Not a bow-shot from the College Not a drum was heard nor a funeral note Not all that heralds wake from coffined clay Not a word spake he more than was need, Now came still evening on Now my co-mates and brothers in exile,. PAGE 130 312 291 I 366 366 83 32 236 Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of old, when Scarron his companions invited, O friends with whom my feet have trod- O give thanks to Him who made- Oh! bless the Lord, my soul ! Oh! could I flow like thee, and make thy stream 79 201 361 268 311 168 74 Oh! deem not they are blest alone! 352 Oh! hear a pensive prisoner's prayer! 241 Oh! my offence is rank, it smells to Heaven Oh! what is man, great Maker of mankind O Nanny! wilt thou gang with me? Oppressed with grief, oppressed with care O praise and thank! the Lord he comes. Others apart, sat on a hill retired, O thou! the nymph with placid eye, O thou! whatever title please thine ear, O Thou! who in the Heavens dost dwell, Our evil deeds hurt our neighbours. 239 311 235 119 107 298 303 231 362 225 244 129 225 350 Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires Poor Colly, thy reasoning is none of the strongest Poor heiresses! these doubts will bore you, Praise to God, immortal praise, Prayer is the soul s sincere desire, PAGE 168 I 69 51 324 350 158 170 119 374 373 143 255 249 308 Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech Sam Johnson's conversation is to the talk of other men 219 107 265 198 23 178 210 187 Satan now is wiser than of yore Sated with home, of wife, of children tired, 157 297 349 343 232 Servant of God, well done; well hast thou fought Shot from yon heavenly bow, at White's Something there is more needful than expense So soon may I follow So sweetly she bade me adieu, Sound the loud timbrel o'er Egypt's dark sea, Sow in the morn thy seed, Speak the speech, I pray you, as I pronounced it to you, Spring may bloom, but she we loved, Stern Daughter of the voice of God! Still-born Silence, thou that art! Strange, all this difference should be- Such goodness in your face doth shine Sure he that made us with such large discourse Sweet Auburn, loveliest village of the plain, Sweet day! so cool, so calm, so bright, Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen, Sweetest Shakespear! Fancy's child, Sweet memory, wafted by thy gentle gale, Take, holy Earth, all that my soul holds dear! Teach us, sprite or bird, Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind, Tell me on what holy ground, Tell me where is fancy bred, Tell me, O tell, what kind of thing is Wit? Thanks, my lord, for your venison, for finer or fatter That it was May, methought-e, though The Angel ended, and in Adam's ear- 328 355 73 314 76 36 207 4 109 87 The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold The bonnie bonnie bairn sits poking in the a'se The damask rose, nor lily fair, The deeds we do, the words we say, PAGE 78 339 267 243 296 275 261 126 120 169 The man who hails you Tom or Jack, The merchant, to secure his treasure, The night cometh, when no man can work The night has a thousand eyes, The nurse sleeps sweetly, hired to watch the sick, The perfect world by Adam trod, The pillared arches were over their head The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed. The quality of Mercy is not strained There are, in this loud stunning tide, There are things of which I may not speak, There is no flock, however watched and tended, There, once well-strapped from point to heel,. The truant fancy was a wanderer ever, The twentieth year is well nigh past The voice which I did more esteem, This child, so lovely and so cherub-like, . Thou, first of our orators, first of our wits, Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know "Tis all from Horace, Horace, long before ye "Tis good to be merry and wise, 'Tis not her face, which love creates 'Tis not in mortals to command success, 'Tis not restraint, or liberty, 'Tis with our judgments as our watches To a dainty new tune, which if you can't hit To be, or not to be, that is the question! Toll for the brave! . To-morrow I will live, the fool does say, To-morrow, Lord, is Thine, Too late I stayed, forgive the crime, To thee that art the summer's nightingale, True ease in writing comes from art, not chance, True friendship's laws are by this rule expressed, 167 143 346 252 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won 'Twas in that place of Scotland's isle 'Twas whispered in Heaven, 'twas muttered in Hell, Unchanged within, to see all changed without |