The Works of Henry Mackenzie, Band 6

J. Ballantyne and Company, 1808

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Seite 378 - Th' adored Name, I taught thee how to pour in song, To soothe thy flame. "I saw thy pulse's maddening play, Wild send thee Pleasure's devious way, Misled by Fancy's meteor-ray, By passion driven ; But yet the light that led astray Was light from Heaven.
Seite 381 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er ! Such fate to suffering worth...
Seite 381 - Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is given, Who long with wants and woes has striven, By human pride or cunning driven To misery's brink, Till, wrenched of every stay but Heaven, He, ruined, sink!
Seite 379 - Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow'r, Thou bonnie gem. Alas ! it's no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie Lark, companion meet! Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet! Wi' spreckl'd breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet The purpling east.
Seite 377 - With future hope, I oft would gaze, Fond, on thy little early ways, Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase, In uncouth rhymes, Fir'd at the simple, artless lays, Of other times. " I saw thee seek the sounding shore, Delighted with the dashing roar ; Or when the north his fleecy store Drove through the sky, I saw grim nature's visage hoar Struck thy young eye.
Seite 314 - But see the fading many-colour'd woods, Shade deepening over shade, the country round Imbrown ; a crowded umbrage, dusk, and dun, Of every hue, from wan declining green To sooty dark.
Seite 380 - mang the dewy weet ! Wi' spreckl'd breast, "When upward-springing, blythe, to greet, The purpling east. Cauld blew the bitter-biting north Upon thy early, humble birth ; Yet cheerfully thou glinted forth Amid the storm, Scarce rear'd above the parent earth Thy tender form. The flaunting flowers our gardens yield, High shelt'ring woods and wa's maun shield ; But thou, beneath the random bield O' clod or stane, Adorns the histie stibble-field Unseen, alane.
Seite 280 - Between her and the fire an old Spanish pointer, that had formerly been her son Edward's, teased, but not teased out of his gravity, by a little terrier of mine. All this is before me, and I am a hundred miles from town, its inhabitants, and its business. In town I may have seen such a figure ; but the country scenery around, like the tasteful frame of an excellent picture, gives it a heightening, a relief, which it would lose in any other situation. Some of my readers, perhaps, will look with little...
Seite 375 - I know not if I shall be accused of such enthusiasm and partiality, when I introduce to the notice of my readers a poet of our own country, with whose writings I have lately become acquainted; but if I am not greatly deceived, I think I may safely pronounce him a genius of no ordinary rank.
Seite 85 - Bane (the sirname, you know, is generally lost in a name descriptive of the individual) had been his companion from his infancy. Of an age so much more advanced as to enable him to be a sort of tutor to his youthful lord, Albert had early taught him the rural exercises and rural amusements, in which...

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