ما يقوله الناس - كتابة مراجعة
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amid ancient arms arts beauty behold beneath breathing charms chearful chief death deep delight earth Ev'n fair fame fancy fear feel fields fire firſt flame flow fons force foul freedom genius gentle gives glory grace Greece hand happy head heart heaven Hence hope human Italy kind kings land laſt laws Liberty light lives luxurious maid Mark mind moſt mountains Muſe nature o'er once pain paſſion peace plain pleaſing pride race rage reaſon reign riſe Roman Rome roſe round ſcene ſee ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhine ſmile ſoft ſome ſoul ſpirit ſpread ſtate ſtill ſtorm ſuch ſweet taught tear tender thee theſe thoſe thou thought toil train truth tyrant vain virtue voice waſte waves whole whoſe wide wild winds youth
الصفحة 238 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
الصفحة 255 - And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail. Still would her touch the strain prolong ; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still through all the song ; And where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close ; And Hope enchanted smil'd, and wav'd her golden hair...
الصفحة 250 - While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont> And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light : While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves, Or Winter yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes : So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name ! ODE TO PEACE.
الصفحة 300 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge And sheds the freshening dew, and lovelier still The pensive Pleasures sweet Prepare thy shadowy car.
الصفحة 255 - He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, And with a withering look The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe.
الصفحة 233 - O thou, whose spirit most possest The sacred seat of Shakspeare's breast! By all that from thy prophet broke. In thy divine emotions spoke ; Hither again thy fury deal, Teach me but once like him to feel : His cypress wreath my meed decree, And I, O Fear, will dwell with thee ! ODE TO SIMPLICITY.
الصفحة 264 - The redbreast oft, at evening hours, Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss, and gathered flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.
الصفحة 221 - What if the lion in his rage I meet ! — Oft in the dust I view his printed feet: And, fearful ! oft, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger...