The Minstrel: Or, The Progress of Genius. In Two Books. With Some Other PoemsWilliam Durell, no. 106, Maiden-Lane, P. Heard, printer, 1802 - 124 pagine |
Altre edizioni - Visualizza tutto
The Minstrel: Or, the Progress of Genius: and Other Poems. [With a Portrait.] James Beattie Visualizzazione completa - 1821 |
The Minstrel, Or, The Progress of Genius, with Some Other Poems James Beattie Visualizzazione completa - 1803 |
The Minstrel; Or the Progress of Genius with Some Other Poems James Beattie Anteprima non disponibile - 2018 |
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adorn afar alarm Ambition's Art thou artless balmy beams beauty bosom bower charms cheek cherub cliffs climes clouds cranes dark dart deep doom'd dread dream dust Edwin eternal falchion fame Fancy Fate fled flies flowers foes forlorn gale gentle gleam glittering gloom glory glow Gothic lyre grace groves hail hares heart heaven hoary hope Indolence Innocence Lapland LENOX LIBRARY lone lore Macbeth mind MINSTREL mirth Mope morn mortal mountains mourn Muse Nature's ne'er never o'er pangs path peace pomp pride PROGRESS OF GENIUS pygmy rage rapture rills roam roam'd rolls scape scene seem'd serene shade smile song sooth soul spleen sprightly springs sting storm strain sublime swain sweet tale tears tempests thee thine thou toil trembling truth tumult vale virtue voice wander warbling weary Whate'er wild wind wings woes yonder YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY youth
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Pagina 19 - IX. 0 how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! X.
Pagina 15 - AH ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar; Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war; Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown...
Pagina 124 - So breaks on the traveller faint and astray, The bright and the balmy effulgence of morn. See Truth, Love, and Mercy, in triumph descending, And nature all glowing in Eden's first bloom ! On the cold cheek of death, smiles and roses are blending, And beauty immortal awakes from the tomb.
Pagina 19 - Stung with disease, and stupified with spleen ; Fain to implore the aid of flattery's screen, Even from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide (The mansion then no more of joy serene), Where fear, distrust, malevolence abide, And impotent desire, and disappointed pride...
Pagina 26 - In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene» In darkness, and in storm, he found delight : Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene The southern sun diffused his dazzling shene*.
Pagina 31 - Or, when the setting Moon, in crimson dyed, Hung o'er the dark and melancholy deep, To haunted stream, remote from man, he hied, Where fays of yore their revels wont to keep ; And there let Fancy rove at large, till sleep A vision brought to his entranced sight.
Pagina 123 - Father of light,' then I cried, ' Thy creature, who fain would not wander from Thee : Lo, humbled in dust, I relinquish my pride : From doubt and from darkness Thou only canst free.
Pagina 11 - HE design was, to trace the progress of a Poetical Genius, born in a rude age, from the first dawning of fancy and reason, till that period at which he may be supposed capable of appearing in the world as a MINSTREL...
Pagina 21 - An honest heart was almost all his stock; His drink the living water from the rock: The milky dams supplied his board, and lent Their kindly fleece to baffle winter's shock ; And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent, Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoe'er they went. xm From labour health, from health contentment springs : Contentment opes the source of every joy.
Pagina 43 - Is there a heart that music cannot melt ? Alas ! how is that rugged heart forlorn ! Is there who ne'er those mystic transports felt Of solitude and melancholy born ? He needs not woo the Muse ; he is her scorn : The sophist's rope of cobweb he shall twine ; Mope o'er the schoolman's peevish page; or mourn, And delve for life in Mammon's dirty mine ; Sneak with the scoundrel fox, or grunt with glutton swine.