The Works in Verse and Prose, of William Shenstone, Esq;: I. Elegies on several occasions. II. Odes, songs, ballads, &c. III. Levities, or pieces of humour. IV. Moral pieces
R. and J. Dodsley, in Pall-mall., 1764 - 345 Seiten
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appear beauty beneath bloom boaſt breaſt breathe bright charms cou'd crown Damon dear death delight diſplay doubt ELEGY ev'n ev'ry face fair fame fancy fate fear fields fire flow flow'r fond fortune gentle give gold grace grove hand hear heart hill hope hour kind lov'd maid mind moſt mournful muſe muſt native nature ne'er never nymph o'er once pain paint peace penſive perhaps plain pleaſe pleaſure pow'r praiſe pride riſe roſe round rural ſaw ſcenes ſcorn ſee ſeem ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhine ſhore ſhould ſigh ſkies ſmile ſoft ſome ſong ſoul ſtream ſuch ſweet tear tender thee theſe thine thoſe thou thought thro toils train Twas vain virtue voice wealth whoſe wild wind wiſh youth
Seite 334 - And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree, Which learning near her little dome did...
Seite 193 - I have heard her with sweetness unfold How that pity was due to a dove, That it ever attended the bold ; And she call'd it the sister of love. But her words such a pleasure convey, So much I her accents adore, Let her speak, and whatever she say, Methinks, I should love her the more.
Seite 341 - Till Fear has taught them a performance meet, And to the well-known chest the dame repair; Whence oft with sugar'd cates she doth 'em greet, And ginger-bread y-rare; now, certes, doubly sweet!
Seite 126 - AVON'S tide ; Bright as the water-lily, fprung, And glittering near its fide. Frefh as the bordering flowers, her bloom : Her eye, all mild to view ; The little halcyon's azure plume Was never half fo blue. Her...
Seite 195 - Tis his with mock passion to glow, Tis his in smooth tales to unfold, " How her face is as bright as the snow, And her bosom, be sure, is as cold. How the nightingales labour the strain, With the notes of his charmer to vie; How they vary their accents in vain, Repine at her triumphs, and die.
Seite 127 - ' 'Tis Strephon, on the mountain's brow, Has won my right good will; To him I gave my plighted vow, With him I'll climb the hill.
Seite 147 - Then fkip'd aloof with quaint amaze ; And then drew near, again to gaze.
Seite 340 - She sees no kind domestic visage near, And soon a flood of tears begins to flow And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. But ah ! what pen his piteous plight may trace ? Or what device his loud laments explain? The form uncouth of his disguised face ? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain ? The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain...
Seite 336 - Who should not honour'd eld with these revere: For never title yet so mean could prove, But there was eke a Mind which did that title love.