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Addison admired Allan Ramsay arms bard beauty became beneath blessed blest bloom bonny born Braes of Yarrow breast breath busk called Canynge charms Cumnor dear death delight died divine Dr Johnson Dunciad e'er Earl of Dorset eyes fair fame fancy fate father fear flame flowers frae genius grace green grove hear heart heaven hills James Cran James Eyre Weekes James Macpherson Jenny king light live Lochaber Lord maid maun mind mournful Muse Nature's ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er Ossian pain peace Pindaric poem poet poetical poetry Pope praise rose round scorn shade sigh sing Sir Charles Sisera smile soft song soul spirit Splendid Shilling spring survive desire sweet Swift tears tell thee thine thou thought Twas verse virtue voice waves weep wife wind wings wrote Yarrow youth
Page 148 - Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year...
Page 147 - WEEP ye not for the dead, neither bemoan him: But weep sore for him that goeth away : For he shall return no more, Nor see his native country.
Page 307 - E'en from the grave thou shalt have power to charm. Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee; Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move; And if so fair, from vanity as free, As firm in friendship, and as fond in love, — Tell them...
Page 131 - My master carries me to church, And often am I blamed Because I leave him in the lurch As soon as text is named ; I leave the church in sermon-time And slink away to Sally ; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Page 307 - Take, holy earth ! all that my soul holds dear: Take that best gift which Heaven so lately gave : To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care Her faded form : she bow'd to taste the wave, And died.
Page 99 - Soft and easy is thy cradle: Coarse and hard thy Saviour lay, When His birthplace was a stable And His softest bed was hay.
Page 76 - I'll venture for the vole.) Six deans, they say, must bear the pall, (I wish I knew what king to call.; Madam, your husband will attend The funeral of so good a friend.
Page 171 - Strong is the lion — like a coal His eyeball — like a bastion's mole His chest against the foes: Strong the gier-eagle on his sail, Strong against tide the enormous whale Emerges as he goes.
Page 75 - Here shift the scene, to represent How those I love my death lament. Poor Pope will grieve a month, and Gay A week, and Arbuthnot a day. St John himself will scarce forbear To bite his pen, and drop a tear. The rest will give a shrug, and cry, ' I 'm sorry — but we all must die!