The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe: With His Letters and Journals, and His Life, Volume 1John Murray, 1834 - Poets, English |
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admire afraid ALBEMARLE STREET answer'd appear'd ask'd behold call'd Danvers dare dear dear Phoebe delight doubt dwell Dyson fair Fair ladies fame Family of Love fancy Farewell and Return fate father fear feel felt fix'd fond fortune Friendship gave gentle GEORGE CRABBE grave grief happy HAPPY DAY hear heard heart honour hope hopes and fears James jointure kind knew labour Lady lassie live look look'd lovers maid maiden mind never nymph o'er pain pass'd Patty peace Peter Phoebe pity poor praise pride Rayner replied resign'd rest return'd rich seem'd show'd sigh sigh'd Silford Hall smile sorrow sought soul speak spirit spleen strong TALE talk'd taught tell terror thee things thou thought told true turn'd Twas Uncle vex'd Villars wealth wife wild wish'd wonder young youth
Popular passages
Page 25 - And in at the windows, and in at the door, And through the walls, by thousands they pour, And down from the ceiling, and up through the floor, From the right and the left, from behind and before, From within and without, from above and below, And all at once to the bishop they go.
Page 166 - Old Bulmer's Oak, is gone to sea. " The church-way walk is now no more, " And men must other ways explore : " Though this indeed promotion gains, " For this the park's new wall contains ; " And here I fear we shall not meet " A shade —although, perchance, a seat.
Page 218 - Flesh he devour'd, but not a bit would stay ; He bark'd, and snarl'd, and growl'd it all away. His ribs were seen extended like a rack, And coarse red hair hung roughly o'er his back. Lamed in one leg, and bruised in wars of yore, Now his sore body made his temper sore. Such was the friend of him who could not find Nor make him one 'mong creatures of his kind. Brave deeds of Fang his master often told, The son of Fury, famed in...
Page 49 - Sorrows like showers descend, and as the heart For them prepares, they good or ill impart ; Some on the mind, as on the ocean rain, Fall and disturb, but soon are lost again ; Some, as to fertile lands, a boon bestow, And [seeds], that else had perish'd, live and grow ; Some fall on barren soil, and thence proceed The idle blossom, and the useless weed.
Page 125 - Lad she spies, With whom she loved her way to take, Then Doubts within her soul arise, And equal Hopes her bosom shake ! Thus, like the Boy, and like the Maid, I wish to go, yet tarry here, And now resolved, and now afraid : To minds disturb'd old views appear In melancholy charms array 'd, And once indifferent, now are dear.
Page 126 - Yet something seems like knowledge, but the change Confuses me, and all in him is strange. That bronzed old Sailor, with his wig awry — Sure he will know me ! No, he passes by. They seem like me in doubt ; but they can call Their friends around them — I am lost to all.
Page 164 - A man approach'd me, by his grandchild led^ A blind old man, and she a fair young maid, Listening in love to what her grandsire said. ' And thus with gentle voice he spoke — " Come lead me, lassie, to the shade, " Where willows grow beside the brook ; " For well I know the sound it made, " When dashing o'er the stony rill, " li munnur'd to St. Osyth's Mill.
Page 164 - I wish they were away, That in the wild-wood maze I as of old might stray. The things themselves are pleasant to behold, But not like those which we beheld of old, — That half-hid mansion, with its wide domain, Unbound and unsubdued I — but sighs are vain ; It is the rage of Taste — the rule and compass reign.
Page 43 - Who for their parents' sins, or for their own, Are now as vagrants, wanderers, beggars known, Hunted and hunting through the world, to share Alms and contempt, and shame and scorn to bear; Whom Law condemns, and Justice, with a sigh, Pursuing, shakes her sword and passes by.— If to the prison we should these commit, They for the gallows will be rendered fit.
Page 165 - Then, lassie, lead thy grandsire on, And to the holy water bring ; A cup is fasten'd to the stone, And I would taste the healing spring, That soon its rocky cist forsakes, And green its mossy passage makes.' ' The holy spring is turn'd aside, The rock is gone, the stream is dried ; The plough has levell'd all around, And here is now no holy ground.