{"1": {"fulltext": "\u00e2\u0096\u00a0BIbE\\nDM", "height": "3216", "width": "1882", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3070", "width": "1773", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nCONSISTING OF\\nFROM THE WORKS OF\\nPOPE, ADDISON, PENROSE, BURNS,\\nGOLDSMITH, PARNELL, OGH.VTE, FOX,\\nBEATTIE, PRIOR, CAWTHORN, SMOLLETT,\\nGRAY, COLLINS, DUNCOMBE, GREEN,\\nCOWPER, COTTON, J, WARTON, TICKELL,\\nLANGHORNE, MERRICK, WHITEHEAD, CARTER, a tb\\nSHENSTONE, PHILLDPS, THOMSON, T. WARTON\\nThe wandering Muse\\nScatters luxuriant sweets.\\n5H0M THE DUBLIN EDITION, WITH VARIOUS CORRECTION\\nADDITIONS, AXD I3IPROVEMENTS,\\nALBANY:\\nPRINTED BY CHURCHDLL M GLASHAN,\\nJV*o. 95, State-street, a few Boors east of the Episcopal Church.\\nSold by Churchill Sc M Glashan, Albany Bemis Beach, Canan-\\ndaigua; William L. Stone, Herkimer; S. B. Leonard, Owegw;\\nLoomis Richards, Middletown, (Conn.) and Fay Davison,\\nRutland, (Vt.)\\nL814,", "height": "3070", "width": "1779", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "TTT\\\\ns", "height": "3070", "width": "1773", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "ywwitetmik\\nTHE publishers of this improved edition of the\\nBeauties of Poetry, deem it superfluous to offer any\\nother recommendation than that which a reference to\\nthe succeeding pages of Contents will furnish. Read-\\ners of taste, they trust, will there find such an assem=\\nblage of the best productions of many of the most cel-\\nebrated poets as cannot fail to be highly acceptable.\\nTo those whose circumstances or inclinations may\\nnot permit them to purchase a large number of books,\\nthis compilation, it is believed, will be peculiarly use-\\nful as it unquestionably contains a greater variety of\\nelegant poetical effusions than any other work of its\\nsize and price. To the learned and affluent, also, it\\nwill not be of less advantage as the trouble of research\\nis materially lessened by comprising in a neat portable\\nVolume the best productions of .several authors", "height": "3116", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "n CONTENTS.\\nPAGE.\\nAn Ode,\\nAddison,\\n127\\nV Night Piece on Death,\\nParnell,\\n128\\nA Hymn to Contentment,\\nib.\\n131\\nAn Allegory on Man\\nib.\\n133\\nThe Garland,\\nPrior,\\n137\\nA Dirge in Cymbeline,\\nCollins,\\n138\\nOde on the Death of Mr. Thomson,\\nib.\\n140\\nORIENTAL ECLOGUES,\\nEclogue I. Selrm or, the Shepherd sMoral, ib.\\n231\\nEclogue II. Hassan 5 or, the Camel-Driver, ib.\\n233\\nEclogue III. Abra or, the Georgian\\nSultana, ib.\\n236\\nEclogue IV. Agib and Secander\\nor, the\\nFugitives,\\nib.\\n239\\nOde on the Passions,\\nib.\\n241\\nOde to Simplicity,\\nib.\\n245\\nTo-morrow,\\nCotton,\\n142\\nThe Benedicite paraphrased,\\nMerrick,\\n143\\nThe Splendid Shilling,\\nPhillips,\\n150\\nMadness an Ode,\\nPenrose,\\n154\\nOde to Melancholy,\\nOgilvie,\\n157\\nOf Taste an Essay,\\nCawthorn,\\n161*\\nThe Birth and Education of Genius\\na Tale, ib.\\n167-\\nNobility a Moral Essay,\\nib.\\n178\\nOde to Health,\\nVuncombe,\\n185\\nThe Hamlet,\\nT. Warton,\\n187\\nOde to Evening,\\nJ. Warton,\\n189^\\nThe Jnthusiast an Ode,\\nWhitehead,\\n190\\nHymn on Solitude,\\nThomson,\\nfOB", "height": "3070", "width": "1773", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS, vii\\nPAGE.\\nThe Cotter s Saturday Night, Burns, 201\\nMan was made to mourn a Dirge, ib. 209\\nWinter a Dirge, ib. 212\\nTo Ruin, ..-\u00c2\u00bbi 214\\nAddress to Edinburgh, ib. 215\\nSong, ib. 9X7\\nThe Farewel, to the Brethren of St. James s\\nLodge, Tarbolton, ib. 219\\nWritten in Friars-Carse Hermitage, on Nith-\\nside, ib. 2\u00c2\u00a3G\\nOn scaring some Water-Fowl in Loch-Turit,\\na wild Scene among the Hills of Ough-\\ntertyre, ib. 222\\nDespondency an Ode, ib. 224\\nAddress to the Shade of Thomson, on crown-\\ning his Bust, at Ednam, Roxburghshire,\\nwith Bays, ib. 226\\nOn seeing a wounded Hare limp by me, which\\na Fellow had just shot at,\\nib\\n227\\nOn Miss J* Scott, of Ayr,\\nib.\\n227\\nThe Fakenham Ghost,\\nBloomfield,\\n228\\n*The Mansion of Rest,\\nFox,\\n247\\n/The Tears of Scotland,\\nSmollett,\\n249\\nOde to Leven Water,\\nib.\\n251\\nThe Spleen,\\nGreen,\\n255\\nLucy and Colin,\\nTickell,\\n281\\nA Night Piece,\\nCarter,\\n297\\nInscription in a Hermitage, c.\\nT. JVarton,\\n299", "height": "3116", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3070", "width": "1773", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "ELEGY\\nTO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY\\nBY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ.\\nY\\\\ HAT beckoning ghost, along the moonlight shade-\\nInvites my steps, and points to yonder glade\\n*Tis she but why that bleeding bosom gored\\nAVhy dimly gleams the visionary sword\\nOh ever beauteous, over {Vlon Ily 7 \u00c2\u00b1\u00c2\u00a911 7\\nIs it, in heaven, a crime to love too well\\nTo bear too tender, or too firm a heart,\\nTo act a lover s, or a Roman s part\\nIs there no bright reversion in the sky,\\nFor those who greatly think or bravely die\\nWhy bade ye else, ye Powers her soul aspire\\nAbove the vulgar flight of low desire\\n\\\\mbition first sprung from your blest abodes;\\nThe glorious fault of angels and of gods\\nThence to their images on earth it flows,\\nAnd in the breasts of kings and heroes glows.\\nMost souls, tis true, but peep out once an a^e,\\nDull, sullen prisoners in the body s cage\\nDim lights of life, that burn a length of years.\\nUseless, unseen, as lamps in sepulchres\\nB", "height": "3116", "width": "1815", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "10 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nLike eastern kings, a lazy state they keep,\\nAnd, close confined to their own palace, sleep.\\nFrom these perhaps (ere Nature bade her die)\\nFate snatch d her early to the pitying sky.\\nAs into air the purer spirits flow,\\nAnd separate from their kindred dregs below\\nSo flew the soul to its congenial place,\\nNor left one virtue to redeem her race.\\nBut thou, false guardian of a charge too good,\\nThou mean deserter of a brother s blood\\nSee on those ruby lips the trembling breath,\\nThose cheeks now fading at the blast of death\\nCold is that breast which warnrd the world before,\\nAnd those love-darting eyes must roll no more,\\nThus, if eternal justice rules the ball,\\nThus shall your wives, and thus your children fall 5\\nOn all the line a sudden vengeance waits,\\nAnd frequent herses shall besiege your gates\\nThere passengers shall stand, and pointing say,\\n(While the long funerals blacken all the way)\\nLo these were they whose souls the furies steel d,\\nAnd cursed with hearts unknowing how to yield.\\nThus unlamented pass the proud away,\\nThe gaze of fools, and pageant of a day I\\nSo perish all whose breasts ne er learn d to glow\\nFor others good, or melt at others woe.\\nWhat can atone (oh ever injured shade\\nThy fate unpitied, and thy rites unpaid\\nNo friend s complaint, no kind domestic tear,\\nPleased thy pale ghost, or graced thy mournful bier\\nBy foreign hands thy dying eyes were closed,\\nBy foreign hands thy decent limbs composed,", "height": "3070", "width": "1773", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 11\\nBy foreign hands thy humble grave adorn d.\\nBy strangers honor d, and by strangers mourn d\\nWhat though no friends in sable weeds appear,\\nGrieve for an hour, perhaps, then mourn a year,\\nAnd bear about the mockery of woe\\nTo midnight dances and the public show\\nWhat though no weeping Loves thy ashes grace,\\nNor polish d marble emulate thy face\\nWhat though no sacred earth allow thee room,\\nNor hallow d dirge be mutter d o er thy tomb\\nYet shall thy grave with rising flowers be dressM,\\nAnd the green turf lie lightly on thy breast\\nThere shall the morn her earliest tears bestow\\nThere the first roses of the year shall blow 5\\nWhile angels with their silver wings o er shade\\nThe ground, now sacred by thy relics made.\\nSo peaceful rests, without a stone, a name,\\nWhat once had beauty, titles, wealth, and fame.\\nHow loved, how honor d once, avails thee not,\\nTo whom related, or by whom begot 5\\nA heap of dust alone remains of thee,\\nTis all thou art, and all the proud shall be\\nPoets themselves must fall, like those they sung,\\nDeaf the praised ear, and mute the tuneful tongue.\\nEv n he, whose soul now melts in mournful lays,\\nShall shortly want the generous tear he pays\\nThen from his closing eyes thy form shall part,\\nAnd the last pang shall tear thee from his heart,\\nLife s idle business at one gasp be o er,\\nThe Muse forgot, and thou beloved no more", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "i e BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nMESSIAH,\\nA SACRED ECLOGUE.\\n/S IMITATION OF VIRGIL S pollio^\\nBY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ.\\nYE Nymphs of Solyma begin the song\\nTo heavenly themes sublimer strains belong.\\nThe mossy fountains and the sylvan shades.\\nThe dreams of Pindus and th Aonian maids,\\nDelight no more Thou my voice inspire,\\nWho touclf d Isaiah s hallow d lips with fire\\nRapt into future times, the bard begun\\nA virgin shall conceive, a virgin beffcf a son J\\nA Yom Jesse s root behold a branch arise,\\nWhose sacred flower with fragrance fills the skies\\nTh ethereal spirit o er its leaves shall move,\\nAnd on its top descends the mystic Dove.\\nYe Heavens from high the dewy nectar pour,\\nAnd in soft silence shed the kindly shower\\nThe sick and weak the healing plant shall aid,\\nProm storms a shelter, and from heat a shade.\\nMl crimes shall cease, and ancient frauds shall fail\\nlieturning Justice lift aloft her scale\\nj eace o er the world her olive wand extend,\\n\\\\nd white-robed Innocence from Heaven descend.\\nSwift fly the years, and rise th expected morn\\nOh spring to light, auspicious Babe, be born\\nSee, Nature hastes her earliest wreaths to bring.\\nWith all the incense of her breathing spring:.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 13\\nSee lofty Lebanon his head advance,\\nSee nodding forests on the mountains dance\\nSee spicy clouds from lowly Sharon rise,\\nAnd Carmel s flowery top perfume the skies\\nHark a glad voice the lonely desert cheers 5\\nPrepare the way a God, a God appears\\nA God, a God the vocal hills reply,\\nThe rocks proclaim th approaching Deity.\\nLo earth receives him from the bending skies 5\\nSink down, ye mountains and ye vallies, rise\\nWith heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay\\nBe smooth, ye rocks ye rapid floods, give way I\\nThe Savior comes by ancient bards foretold 5\\nHear him, ye deaf; and all ye blind, behold 5\\nHe from thick films shall purge the visual ray,\\nAnd on the sightless eyeball pour the day\\nTis he th 3 obstructed paths of sound shall clear,\\nAnd bitl new music charm th unfolding ear\\nThe dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego,\\nAnd leap exulting like the bounding roe.\\nNo sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear,\\nFrom every face he wipes off every tear.\\nIn adamantine chains shall Death be bound,\\nAnd hell s grim tyrant feel th eternal wound.\\nAs the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,\\nSeeks freshest pasture and the purest air 5\\nExplores the lost, the wandering sheep directs,\\nBy day o ersees them and by night protects\\nThe tender lambs he raises in his arms,\\nFeeds from his hand and in his bosom warms 5\\nThus shall mankind his guardian care engage,\\nThe promised father of the future age.\\nNo more shall nation against nation rise,\\nNor ardent warriors meet with hateful eyes,\\nB 2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "14 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nNor fields with gleaming steel be cover d o er,\\nThe brazen trumpets kindle rage no more\\nBut useless lances into scythes shall bend,\\n\\\\nd the broad falchion In a plowshare entL\\nThen palaces shall rise the joyful son\\nShall finish what his short-lived sire begun\\nTheir vines a shadow to their race shall yield,\\nAnd the same hand that sow d, shall reap the iield.\\nThe swain, in barren deserts, with surprise,\\nSees lilies spring, and sudden verdure rise\\nVnd starts, amidst the thirsty wilds to hear\\nNew falls of water murmuring in his ear.\\nOn rifted rocks, the dragon s late abodes,\\nThe green reed trembles, and the bulrush nods.\\nWaste sandy vallies, once perplex d with thorn,\\nThe spiry fir and shapely box adorn\\nTo leafless shrubs the flowery palms succeed,\\nAnd odorous myrtle to the noisome weed.\\nThe lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,.\\nAnd boys in flowery bands the tiger lead\\nThe steer and lion at one crib shall meet,\\nAnd harmless serpents lick the pilgrim s feet.\\nThe smiling infant in his hand shall take\\nThe crested basilisk and speckled snake,\\nPleased, the green lustre of the scales survey,\\nAnd with their forky tongues shall innocently play.\\nRise, crownM with light, imperial Salem, rise\\nExalt thy towering head and lift thy eyes\\nSee a long race thy spacious courts adorn\\nSee future sons and daughters yet unborn\\nIn crowding ranks on every side arise,\\nDemanding life, impatient for the skies\\nSee barbarous nations at thy gates attend,\\nWalk in thy light, and in thy temple bend 5", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 1.5\\nSec thy bright altars throng d with prostrate kings.\\nAnd heap d with products of Sabeean springs I\\nFor thee Idume s spicy forests blow.\\nAnd seeds of gold in Ophir s mountains glow.\\nSee heaven its sparkling portals wide display,\\nAnd break upon thee in a flood of day\\nXo more the rising sun shall gild the morn,\\nXor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn\\nBut, lost dissolved in thy superior rays.\\nOne tide of glory, one unclouded blaze,\\nOverflow thy courts the Light himself shall shine\\nReveaFd, and God s eternal day be thine\\nThe seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,\\nRocks fall to dust, and mountains melt away\\nBut fix d his word, his saving power remains\\nThy realm for ever lasts, thy own Messiah reigns\\nODE OJV SOLITUDE.\\nBY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ.\\nWritten when the Author was about twelve years old.\\nilAPPY the man whose wish and care\\nA few paternal acres bound,\\nContent to breathe his native air,\\nIn his own ground.\\nWhose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,\\nWhose flocks supply him with attire\\nWhose trees in summer yield him shade,\\nIn winter fire.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "1G BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nBlest, who can unconcern dly find\\nHours, days, and years, slide soft away.\\nIn health of body, peace of mind,\\nQuiet by day,\\nSound sleep by night study and ease,\\nTogether mix d sweet recreation,\\nAnd innocence, which most does please\\nWith meditation.\\nThus let me live, unseen, unknown\\nThus, unlamented, let me die,\\nSteal from the world, and not a stone\\nTell where I lie.\\nTHE DESERTED VILLAGE.\\nBY OLIVER GOLDSMITH, M. B.\\nSWEET Auburn! loveliest village of the plain,\\nWhere health and plenty cheer d the laboring swain,\\nWhere smiling spring its earliest visit paid,\\nAnd parting summer s lingering blooms delay d.\\nDear lovely bowers of innocence and ease,\\nSeats of my youth, when every sport could please,\\nHow often have I loiter d o er thy green,\\nWhere humble happiness endear d each scene I\\nHow often have I paused on every charm,\\nThe shelter d cot, the cultivated farm,\\nThe never-failing brook, the busy mill,\\nThe decent church that topp d the neighboring hill.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. If\\nThe hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade,\\nFor talking age, and whispering lovers made\\nHow often have I blest the coming day,\\n\\\\Vhen toil remitting lent its turn to play,\\nAnd all the village train, from labor free,\\nLed up their sports beneath the spreading tree\\nWhile many a pastime circled in the shade,\\nThe young contending as the old survey d\\nAnd many a gambol frolick d o er the ground,\\nAnd sleights of art and feats of strength went round.\\nAnd still, as each repeated pleasure tired,\\nSucceeding sports the mirthful band inspired\\nThe dancing pair, that simply sought renown,\\nBy holding out, to tire each other down\\nThe swain mistrustless of his smutted face,\\nWhile secret laughter titterd round the place\\nThe bashful virgin s sidelong looks of love,\\nThe matron s glance thai would those looks reprove.\\nThese were thy charms, sweet village sports like these.\\nWith sweet succession, taught ev n toil to please\\nThese round thy bowers their cheerful influence shed,\\nThese were thy charms but all these charms are fled,\\nSweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,\\nThy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn\\nAmidst thy bowers the tyrant s hand is seen,\\nAnd desolation saddens all thy green\\nOne only master grasps the whole domain.\\nAnd half a tillage stints thy smiling plain\\nNo more thy glassy brook reflects the day.\\nBut, choked with sedges, works its weedy way\\nAlong thy glades, a solitary guest,\\nThe hollow sounding bittern guards its no-*\\nAmidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,\\n\\\\ud tires their echoes with unvaried cries.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "18 BEAUTIES OF POETRTf.\\nSunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,\\nAnd the long grass o ertops the mouldering wall,\\nAnd, trembling, shrinking from the spoiler s hand.\\nFar, far away, thy children leave the land.\\nIll fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,\\nWhere wealth accumulates, and men decay\\nPrinces and lords may flourish, or may fade\\nA breath can make them, as a breath has made\\nBut a bold peasantry, their country s pride,\\nWhen once destroy d, can never be supplied.\\nA time there was, ere England s griefs began,\\nWhen every rood of ground maintain d its man\\nFor him light labor spread her wholesome store,\\nJust gave what life requir d, but gave no more\\nHis best companions, innocence and health,\\nAnd his best riches, ignorance of wealth.\\nBut times are alter d traders unfeeling train\\nUsurp the land and dispossess the swain\\nAlong the lawn where scatter d hamlets rose,\\nUnwieldy wealth, and cumbrous pomp repose 5\\nAnd every want to luxury allied,\\nAnd every pang that folly pays to pride.\\nThose gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom,\\nThose calm desires that ask d but little room\\nThose healthful sports that graced the peaceful scene,\\nLived in each look, and brighten d all the green 5\\nThese, far departing, seek a kinder shore,\\nAnd rural mirth and manners are no more.\\nSweet Auburn! parent of the blissful hour,\\nThy glades forlorn confess the tyrant s pow r.\\nHere, as I take my solitary rounds,\\nAmidst thy tangling walks, and ruin d grounds,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 19\\nAnd, many years elapsed, return to view\\nWhere once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew,\\nRemembrance wakes, with all her busy train,\\n,Swe*l3 at my breast, and turns the past to pain.\\nIn all my wanderings round this world of care,\\nIn all my griefs and God has giv n me share\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nI still had hopes my latest hours to crown,\\nAmidst these humble bowers to lay me down\\nTo husband out life s taper at the close,\\nAnd keep the flame from wasting by repose\\nI still had hopes, for pride attends us still,\\nAmidst the swains to shew my book-learn d skill,\\nAround my fire an evening group to draw,\\nAnd tell of all I felt, and all I saw\\nAnd, as an hare whom hounds and horns pursue,\\nPants to the plaee from whence at first she flew,\\nI still had hopes my long vexations past,\\nHere to return and die at home at last.\\nO blest retirement, friend to life s decline,\\nRetreat from care that never must be mine\\nHow blest is he who crowns, in shades like these,\\nA youth of labor with an age of ease\\nWho quits a world where strong temptations try,\\nAnd, since tis hard to combat, learns to fly\\nFor him no wretches, born to work and weep,\\nExplore the mine, or tempt the dangerous deep\\nNo surly porter stands in guilty state,\\nTo spurn imploring famine from the gate\\nBut on he moves to meet his latter end,\\nAngels around befriending virtue s friend\\nSinks to the grave with unperceived decay.\\nWhile resignation gently slopes the way", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "20 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd, all his prospects brightening to the last.\\nHis Heaven commences ere the world be past\\nSweet was the sound, when oft, at evening s close,,\\nUp yonder hill the village murmur rose\\nThere, as I pass d with careless steps and slow.\\nThe mingling notes came soften d from below\\nThe swain responsive as the milk-maid sung,\\nThe sober herd that low d to meet their young\\nThe noisy geese that gabbled o er the pool,\\nThe playful children just let loose from school\\nThe watch-dog s voice that bay d the whispering wind,\\n\\\\nd the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind\\nThese all in sweet confusion sought the shade,\\nVnd fill d each pause the nightingale had made.\\nBut now the sounds of population fail,\\nNo cheerful murmurs fluctuate in the gale,\\nNo busy steps the grass-grown footway tread,\\nBut all the bloomy flush of life is fled.\\nAll but yon widow d, solitary thing,\\nThat feebly bends beside the plashy spring;\\nShe, wretched matron, forced, in age, for bread,\\nTo strip the brook with mantling cresses spread,\\nTo pick her wintry faggot from the thorn,\\nTo seek her nightly shed, and weep till morn\\nShe only left, of all the harmless train,\\nThe sad historian of the pensive plain.\\nNear yonder copse, where once the garden smiled,\\nAnd still where many a garden flower grows wild\\nThere, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose,\\nThe village preacher s modest mansion rose.\\nA man he was to all the country dear,\\nAnd passing rich with forty pounds a year:", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. U\\nRemote from towns he ran his godly race,\\nNor e er had changed, nor wish d to change his place\\nUnskilful he to fawn, or seek for power,\\nBy doctrines fashion d to the varying hour\\nFar other aims his heart had learn d to prize,\\nMore bent to raise the wretched than to rise.\\nHis house was known to all the vagrant train,\\nHe chid their wanderings, but relieved their pain,\\nThe long-remember d beggar was his guest,\\nWhose beard, descending, swept his aged breast\\nThe ruin d spendthrift, now no longer proud,\\nClaim d kindred there, and had his claims allow d\\nThe broken soldier, kindly bade to stay,\\nSate by his fire, and talk d the night away;\\nAVept o er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done,\\nShoulder d his crutch, and shew d how fields were won.\\nPleased with his guests, the good man learn d to glow,\\nAnd quite forgot their vices in their woe\\nCareless their merits, or their faults to scan,\\nHis pity gave ere charity began.\\nThus to relieve the wretched was his pride,\\nAnd ev n his failings lean d to virtue s side\\nBut in his duty prompt at every call,\\nHe watch d and wept, he pray d and felt for all\\nAnd, as a bird each fond endearment tries,\\nTo tempt her new-fledged offspring to the skies\\nTie tried each art, reproved each dull delay,\\nAllured to brighter worlds, and led the way.\\nBeside the bed where parting life was laid.\\nAnd sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay d,\\nThe reverend champion stood. At his control.\\nDespair and anguish fled the struggling soul\\nC", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "22 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nComfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,\\nAnd his last faultering accents whisper d praise.\\nAt church, with meek and unaffected grace,\\nHis looks adorn d the venerable place\\nTruth from his lips prevail d with double sway.\\nAnd fools who came to scoff remain d to pray.\\nThe service past, around the pious man,\\nWith ready zeal, each honest rustic ran\\nEv n children follow d with endearing wile,\\nAnd pluck d his gown to share the good man s smile.\\nHis ready smile a parent s warmth express d,\\nTheir welfare pleased him and their cares distressed\\nTo them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,\\nBut all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.\\nAs some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,\\nSwells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,\\nThough round its breast the rolling clouds are spread a\\nEternal sunshine settles on its head.\\nBeside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,\\nWith blossom d furze unprofitably gay,\\nThere, in his noisy mansion, skill d to rule,\\nThe village master taught his little school\\nA man severe he was, and stern to view,\\nI knew him well and every truant knew\\nWell had the boding tremblers learn d to trace\\nThe day s disasters in his morning face 5\\nFull well they laugh d, with counterfeited glee,\\nAt all his jokes, for many a joke had he\\nEull well the busy whisper, circling round,\\nConvey d the dismal tidings when he frown d\\nYet he was kind, or if severe in aught,\\nThe love he bore to learning was in fault", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 23\\nThe village all declared how much he knew\\nTwas certain he could write and cypher too\\nLands he could measure, terms and tides presage,\\nAnd ev n the story ran that he could gauge\\nIn arguing too, t\\\\\\\\e parson owird his skill,\\nFor ev n though vanquisli d, he could argue still\\nWhile words of learned length, and thundering sound,\\nAmazed the gazing rustics ranged around\\nAnd still they gazed, and still the wonder grew,\\nThat one small head could carry all he knew.\\nBut past is all his fame 5 the very spot\\nWhere many a time he triumph d, is forgot.\\nNear yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high.\\nWhere once the sign -post caught the passing eye,\\nLow lies that house where nut-brown draughts inspired,\\nWhere grey -beard mirth and smiling toil retired,\\nWhere village statesmen talk d, with looks profound,\\nAnd news, much older than their ale, went round.\\nImagination fondly stoops to trace\\nThe parlor splendors of that festive place\\nThe white-wash d wall, the nicely sanded floor,\\nThe varnish d clock that click d behind the door,\\nThe chest, contrived a double debt to pay,\\nA bed by night, a chest of drawers by day\\nThe pictures placed for ornament and use,\\nThe twelve good rules, the royal game of goose\\nThe hearth, except when winter chilPd the day,\\nWith aspen boughs, and flowers, and fennel gay,\\nWhile broken tea-cups, wisely kept for show,\\nRanged o er the chimney, glisteii d in a row.\\nVain transitory splendor could not all\\nReprieve the tottering mansion from its fall I", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "PA BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nObscure it sinks nor shall it more impart\\nAn hour s importance to the poor man s hearty\\nThither no more the peasant shall repair,\\nTo sweet oblivion of his daily care\\nNo more the farmer s news, the barber s tale,\\nNo more the woodman s ballad shall prevail\\nNo more the smith his dusky brow shall clear,.\\nRelax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear;\\nThe host himself no longer shall be found\\nCareful to see the mantling bliss go round\\nNor the coy maid, half willing to be press d,\\n.Shall kiss the cup to pass it to the rest.\\nYes let the rich deride, the proud disdain,\\nThese simple blessings of the lowly train,\\nTo me more^dear, congenial to my heart,\\nOne native charm, than all the gloss of art 5\\nSpontaneous joys, where Nature has its play,\\nThe soul adopts, and owns their first-born sway,\\nLightly they frolic o er the vacant mind,\\nUnenvied, unmolested, unconfined.\\nBut the long pomp, the midnight masquerade,\\nWith all the freaks of wanton wealth array *d,\\nIn these, ere triikrs half their wish obtain,\\nThe toiling pleasure sickens into pain\\nAnd, ev n while fashion s brightest arts decoys\\nThe heart, distrusting, asks if this be joy\\nYe friends to truth, ye statesmen who survey\\nThe rich man s joys increase, the poor s decay,\\nTis yours to judge, how wide the limits stand\\nBetween a splendid and a happy land.\\nProud swells the tide with loads of freighted ore,\\nVud shouting Folly hails them from her shore", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 25\\nHoards ev n beyond the miser s wish abound,\\nAnd rich men flock from all the world around.\\nYet count our gains. This wealth is but a name\\nThat leaves our useful product still the same.\\nNot so the loss. The man of wealth and pride\\nTakes up a space that many poor supplied;\\nSpace for his lake, his park s extended bounds,\\nSpace for his horses, equipage, and hounds\\nThe robe that wraps his limbs in silken sloth,\\nHas robb d the neighboring fields of half their growth\\nHis seat where solitary sports are seen,\\nIndignant spurns the cottage from the green\\nAround the world each needful product flies,\\nFor all the luxuries the world supplies,\\nWhile thus the land, adorn d for pleasure -all,\\nIn barren splendor feebly waits the fall.\\nAs some fair female, unadorn d and plain,\\nSecure to please while youth confirms her reign,\\nSlights every borrow d charm that dress supplies,\\nNor shares with art the triumph of her eyes;\\nBut when those charms are past, (for charms are frail)\\nWhen time advances, and when lovers fail,\\nShe then shines forth, solicitous to bless,\\nIn all the glaring impotence of dress.\\nThus fares the land by luxury betray d,\\nIn nature s simplest charms at first array d,\\nBut, verging to decline, its splendors rise,\\nts vistas strike, its palaces surprise\\nWhile, scourged by famine from the smiling land,\\nThe mournful peasant leads his humble band\\nAnd while he sinks, without one arm to save,\\nThe country blooms a garden and a grave,\\nC 2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "26 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWhere then, ah where shall poverty reside,\\nTo -scape the pressure of contiguous pride\\nIf to some common s fenceless limits stray d,\\nHe drives his flock to pick the scanty blade,\\nThose fenceless fields the sons of wealth divide,\\nAnd ev n the bare -worn common is denied.\\nIf to the city sped what waits him there\\nTo see profusion that he must not share\\nTo see ten thousand baneful arts combined\\nTo pamper luxury, and thin mankind\\nTo see each joy the sons of pleasure know\\nExtorted from his fellow creature s woe.\\nHere, while the courtier glitters in brocade,\\nThere the pale artist plies the sickly trade\\nHere, while the proud their lorig-drawn pomps display,\\nThere the black gibbet glooms beside the way.\\nThe dome where pleasure holds her midnight reign,\\nHere, richly deck d* admits the gorgeous train\\nTumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square,\\nThe rattling chariots clash, the torches glare.\\nSure, scenes like these no troubles e er annoy\\nSure, these denote one universal joy\\nAre these thy serious thoughts Ah turn thine eyes\\nWhere the poor houseless shivering female lies.\\nShe once, perhaps, in village plenty blest,\\nHas wept at tales of innocence distress d\\nHer modest looks the cottage might adorn,\\nSweet as the primrose peeps beneath the thorn 5\\nNow lost to all her friends, her virtue fled,\\nNear her betrayer s door she lays her head,\\nAnd, pinch d with cold, and shrinking from the shower.\\nWith heavy heart deplores that luckless hour,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWhen icily first, ambitious of the town,\\nShe left her wheel, and robes of country brown.\\nDo thine, sweet Auburn, thine, the loveliest train,\\nDo thy fair tribes participate her pain\\nEv n now, perhaps, by cold and hunger led,\\nAt proud men s doors they ask a little bread\\nAh, no. To distant climes, a dreary scene,\\nWhere half the convex world intrudes between.\\nThrough torrid tracks, with fainting steps, they go\\nWhere wild Altama murmurs to their woe.\\nFar different there from all that charm d before,\\nThe various terrors of that horrid shore\\nThose blazing suns, that dart a downward ray,\\nAnd fiercely shed intolerable day\\nThose matted woods, where birds forget to sing,\\nBut silent bats in drowsy clusters cling\\nThose poisonous fields, with rank luxuriance crown d.\\nWhere the dark scorpion gathers death around 5\\nWhere, at each step, the stranger fears to wake\\nThe rattling terrors of the vengeful snake\\nWhere crouching tigers wait their hapless prey,\\nAnd savage men, more murderous still than they\\nWhile oft in whirls the mad tornado flies,\\nMingling the ravaged landscape with the skies.\\nFar different these from every former scene,\\nThe cooling brook, the grassy vested green,\\nThe breezy covert of the warbling grove,\\n$ffhat only shelter d thefts of harmless love.\\nGood Heaven what sorrows gloom d that parting da\\\\\\nThat callM them from their native walks away\\nWhen the poor exiles, every pleasure past,\\nHung round the bowers, and fondly look d their last,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "28 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd took a long farewell, and wished in vain\\nFor seats like these beyond the western main\\nAnd, shuddering still to face the distant deep,\\nReturn *d and wept, and still return d to weep.\\nThe good old sire the first prepared to go\\nTo new-found worlds, and wept for others woe.\\nBut for himself, in conscious virtue brave,\\nHe only wish d for worlds beyond the grave.\\nHis lovely daughter, lovelier in her tears,\\nThe fond companion of his helpless years,\\nSilent went next, neglectful of her charms,\\nAnd left a lover s for a father s arms.\\nWith louder plaints the mother spoke her woes,\\nAnd bless d the cot where every pleasure rose\\nAnd kiss d her thoughtless babes, with many a teatf.\\nAnd clasp d them close, in sorrow doubly dear;\\nWhile her fond husband strove to lend relief.\\nIn all the silent manliness of grief*\\nO luxury thou cursed by Heaven s decree,\\nHow ill exchanged are things like these for thee\\nHow do thy potions, with insidious joy,\\nDiffuse their pleasures only to destroy\\nKingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown,\\nBoast of a florid vigor not their own.\\nAt every draught more large and large they grow,\\nA bloated mass of rank unwieldy woe 5\\nTill, sapp d their strength, and every part unsound^\\nDown, down they sink, and spread a ruin round.\\nEv n now the devastation is begun,\\nAnd half the business of destruction done\\nEv n now, methinks, as pondering here I stand,\\nI see the rural virtues leave the land.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 29\\nDown where yon anchoring vessel spreads the sail,\\nThat, idly waiting, flaps with every gale,\\nDownward they move, a melancholy band,\\nPass from the shore, and darken all the strand\\nContented toil, and hospitable care,\\nAnd kind connubial tenderness are there\\nAnd piety, with wishes placed above\\nAnd steady loyalty, and faithful love.\\nAnd thou, sweet Poetry thou loveliest maid,\\nStill first to fly where sensual joys invade;\\nJJnfit, in these degenerate times of shame,\\nTo catch the heart or strike for honest fame\\nDear charming nymph neglected and decried 5\\nMy shame in crowds, my solitary pride.\\nThou source of all my bliss, and all my woe,\\n*That found st me poor at first, and keep st me so 5\\nThou guide, by which the nobler arts excel,\\nThou nurse of every virtue, fare thee well 5\\nFarewel and, O where er thy voice be tried,\\nOn Torno s cliffs, or Pambamarca s side,\\nI* Whether where equinoctial fervors glow,\\n,Or winter wraps the polar world in snow,\\n.Still let thy voice, prevailing over time,\\nRedress the rigors of th inclement clime\\nAid slighted truth, with thy persuasive strain\\nTeach erring man to spurn the rage of gain\\nTeach him, that states, of native strength possessed.\\nThough very poor, may still be very blest\\nThat trade s proud empire hastes to swift decay.\\nAs ocean sweeps the labor d mole away\\nWhile self-dependent power can time defy.\\nAs rocks resist the billows and the skv.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "SO BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nTHE TRAVELLER.\\nInscribed to the Rev. H. Goldsmith.\\nBY OLIVER GOLDSMITH, M. B.\\nREMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, sku\\nOr by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po\\nOr onward, where the rude Carinthian boor\\nAgainst the houseless stranger shuts the door\\nOr where Campania s plain forsaken lies,\\nA dreary waste expanding to the skies\\nWhere er I roam, whatever realms to see,\\nMy heart untravelPd fondly turns to thee\\nStill to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain,\\nAnd drags at each remove a lengthening chain.\\nEternal blessings crown my earliest friend,\\nAnd round his dwelling guardian saints attend 5\\nBlessM be that spot, where cheerful guests retire\\nTo pause from toil, and trim their evening fire\\nBless d that abode, where want and pain repair,\\nAnd every stranger finds a ready chair\\nBless d be those feasts, with simple plenty crown d,\\nWhere all the ruddy family around\\nLaugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,\\nOr sigh with pity at some mournful tale\\nOr press the bashful stranger to his food,\\n\\\\nd learn the luxury of doing good.\\nBut me, not destined such delights to share,\\nMy prime of life in wandering spent, and care\\nImpell d, with steps unceasing, to pursue\\nSome fleeting good, that mocks me with the view", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 31\\nThat, like the circle bounding earth and skies,\\nAllures from far, yet, as I follow, flies\\nMy fortune leads to traverse realms alone,\\nAnd find no spot of all the world my own.\\nEv n now, where Alpine solitudes ascend,\\nI sit me down a pensive hour to spend\\nAnd, placed on high above the storm s career,\\nLook downward where an hundred realms appear:\\nLakes, forests, cities, plains, extending wide,\\nThe pomp of kings, the shepherd s humbler pride.\\nWhen thus creation s charms around combine,\\nAmidst the store should thankless pride repine\\nSay, should the philosophic mind disdain\\nThat good which makes each humbler bosom vain\\nLet school-taught pride dissemble all it can,\\nThese little things are great to little man 5\\nAnd wiser he, whose sympathetic mind\\nExults in all the good of all mankind.\\nYe glittering towns, with wealth and splendor crown d 5\\nYe fields, where summer spreads profusion round 5\\nYe lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale\\nYe bending swains, that dress the flowery vale\\nFor me your tributary stores combine\\nCreation s heir, the world, the world is mine.\\nAs some lone miser, visiting his store,\\nBends o er his treasure, counts, recounts it o er 5\\nHoards after hoards his rising raptures fill\\nYet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still\\nThus to my breast alternate passions rise,\\nPleased with each good that heaven to man supplies\\nYet oft a sigh prevails, and sorrows fall,\\nTo see the hoard of human bliss so small", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "32 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find\\nSome spot to real happiness consigned,\\nWhere my worn soul, each wandering hope at rest\\nMay gather bliss to see my fellows blest.\\nBut where to find that happiest spot below,\\nWho can direct, when all pretend to know\\nThe shuddering tenant of the frigid zone\\nBoldly proclaims that happiest spot his own 5\\nExtols the treasures of his stormy seas,\\nAnd his long nights of revelry and ease\\nThe naked negro, panting at the line\\nBoasts of his golden sands and palmy wine,\\nBasks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave.\\nAnd thanks his gods for all the good they gave.\\nSuch is the patriot s boast, where er we roam\\nMis first, best country, ever is at home\\nAnd yet, perhaps, if countries we compare,\\nAnd estimate the blessings which they share.\\nThough patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find\\nAn equal portion dealt to all mankind\\nAs different good, by art or nature given,\\nTo different nations makes their blessings even.\\nNature, a mother kind alike to all,\\nStill grants her bliss at labor s earnest call\\nWith food as well the peasant is supplied\\nOn Idra s cliffs as Arno s shelvy side\\nAnd though the rocky crested summits frown,\\nThese rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down.\\nFrom art more various are the blessings sent\\nWealth, commerce, honor, liberty, content\\nYet these each othei s power so strong contest,\\nThat either seems destructive of the rest.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. i\\nWhere wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails,\\nAnd honor sinks where commerce long prevails\\nHence every state, to one loved blessing prone,\\nConforms and models life to that alone.\\nEach to the favorite happiness attends,\\nI And spurns the plan that aims at other ends\\nTill carried to excess in each domain,\\nThis favorite good begets peculiar pain.\\nBut let us try these truths with closer eyes,\\nAnd trace them through the prospect as it lies\\nHere, for a while, my proper cares resign d,\\nHere let me sit in sorrow for mankind\\nLike yon neglected shrub at random cast,\\nThat shades the steep, and sighs at every blast.\\nFar to the right, where Appenine ascends,\\nBright as the summer, Italy extends\\nIts uplands sloping, deck the mountain s side,\\nWoods over woods in gay theatric j*ide\\nWhile oft some temple s moulding tops between.\\nWith venerable grandeur m*** the scene.\\nCould nature s bounty satisfy the breast,\\nThe sons of Italy were surely blest.\\nWhatever fruits in different climes are found,\\nThat proudly rise, or humbly court the ground\\nWhatever blooms in torrid tracts appear,\\nWhose bright succession decks the varied year\\nWhatever sweets salute the northern sky\\nWith vernal leaves, that blossom but to die\\n4 These, here disporting, own the kindred soil,\\nNor ask luxuriance from the planter s toil\\nWhile sea-born gales their gelid wings expand.\\nTo winnow fragrance round the smiling land.\\nD", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "34 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nBut small the bliss that sense alone bestow-\\nAnd sensual bliss is all the nation knows.\\nIn florid beauty groves and fields appear,\\nMan seems the only growth that dwindles here.\\nContrasted faults through all his manners reign\\nThough poor, luxurious though submissive, vain\\nThough grave, yet trifling; zealous, yet untrue,\\nAnd, ev n in penance, planning sins anew.\\nAll evils here contaminate the mind,\\nThat opulence departed leaves behind\\nFor wealth was theirs, nor far removed the date,\\nWhen commerce proudly flourish d through the state\\nAt her command the palace learn d to rise,\\nAgain the long-fall n column sought the skies\\nThe canvas glow d beyond ev n nature warm\\nThe pregnant quarry teem d with human form\\nTill, more unsteady than the southern gale,\\nCommerce on other shores displayed her sail\\nWhile nought rem*i n d of all that riches gave,\\nBut towns unmann d, ^d lords without a slave\\nAnd late the nation found, with fruitless skill,\\nIts former strength was but pletn^i c in.\\nYet, still the loss of wealth is here supplied\\nBy arts, the splendid wrecks of former pride\\nFrom these the feeble heart and long-fall n mind\\nAn easy compensation seem to find.\\nHere may be seen, in bloodless pomp array d,\\nThe paste -board triumph and the cavalcade\\nProcessions form d for piety and love,\\nA mistress or a saint in every grove.\\nBy sports like these are all their cares beguiled,\\nThe sports of children satisfy the child 5\\nEach nobler aim, repress d by long control,\\nNow sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 5\\nWhile low delights, succeeding fast behind,\\nIn happier meanness occupy the mind\\nAs in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway,\\nDefaced by time, and tottering in decay,\\nThere in the ruiri, heedless of the dead,\\nThe shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed,\\nAnd, wondering man could want the larger pile,\\nExults, and owns Ins cottage with a smile.\\nMy soul, turn from them turn, we to survey\\nWhere rougher climes a nobler race display\\nWhere the bleak Swiss their stormy mansion tread.\\nAnd force a churlish soil for scanty bread 5\\nNo product here the barren hills afford,\\nBut man and steel, the soldier and his sword.\\nNo vernal blooms their torpid rocks array,\\nBut winter lingering chills the lap of May 5\\nNo zephyr fondly sues the mountain s breast,\\nBut meteors glare, and stormy glooms invest.\\nYet still, ev n here, content can spread a charm,\\nRedress the clime, and all its rage disarm.\\nThough poor the peasant s hut, his feast though small,\\nHe sees his little lot the lot of all 5\\nSees no contiguous palace rear its head,\\nTo shame the meanness of his humble shed 5\\nNo costly lord the sumptuous banquet deal,\\nTo make him loathe his vegetable meal\\nBut calm, and bred in ignorance and toil,\\nEach wish contracting, fits him to the soil.\\nCheerful at morn he wakes from short repose,\\nBreathes the keen air, and carols as he go\\nWith patient angle trolls the finny deep,\\nOr drives his venturous ploughshare to the steep;", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "56 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nOr seeks the den where snow-tracks mark the way.\\nAnd drags the struggling savage into day.\\nAt night returning, every labor sped,\\nHe sits him down the monarch of a shed\\nSmiles by his cheerful fire, and round survey*\\nHis children s looks, that brighten at the blaze\\nWhile his loved partner, boastful of her hoard,\\nDisplays her cleanly platter on the board\\nAnd haply too some pilgrim thither led,\\nWith many a tale repays the nightly bed.\\nThus every good his native wilds impart,,\\nImprints the patriot passion on his hearty\\nAnd ev n those ills, that round his mansion rise^\\nEnhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies\\nDear is that shed to which his soul conforms,\\nAnd dear that hill which lifts him to the storms\\nAnd, as a child, when scaring sounds molest,\\nClings close and closer to the mother s breast,\\n80 the loud torrent and the whirlwind s roar,\\nBut bind him to his native mountains more*\\nSuch are the charms to barren states assign d\\nTheir wants but few, their wishes all confined.\\nYet let them only share the praises due\\nIf few their wants, their pleasures are but few\\nFor every want that stimulates the breast,\\nBecomes a source of pleasure when redressed.\\nWhen from such lands each pleasing science flies,\\nThat first excites desire, and then supplies 5\\nUnknown to them when sensual pleasures cloy,\\nTo fill the languid pause with finer jov;\\nUnknown those powers that raise the soul to flame,\\nCatch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nTheir level life is but a mouldering fire,\\nUnquench d by -want, unfann d by strong desire\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0Unfit for raptures or, if raptures cheer\\nOn some high festival of once a year,\\nIn wild excess the vulgar breast takes fire,\\nTill, buried in debauch, the bliss expire.\\nBut not their joys alone thus coarsely flow;\\nTheir morals, like their pleasures, are but low\\nFor, as refinement stops, from sire to son,\\nUnalter d, unimproved, the manners run\\nAnd love s and friendship s finely pointed dart\\nFall blunted from each indurated heart.\\nSome sterner virtues o er the mountain s breast\\nMay sit, like falcons cowering on the nest;\\nBut all the gentler morals, such as play\\nThrough life s more cultured walks, and charm the way\\nThese, far dispersed, on timorous pinions fly,\\nTo sport and flutter in a kinder sky.\\nTo kinder skies, where gentler manners reign,\\nI turn and France displays her bright domain.\\nGay sprightly land of mirth and social ease\\nPleased with thyself, whom all the world can please.;\\nHow often have I led thy sportive choir,\\nWith tuneless pipe, beside the murmuring Loire\\nWhere shading elms along the margin grew,\\nAnd, freshen d from the wave, the zephyr flew\\nAnd haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still,\\nBut mock d all tune, and marr d the dancer s skill\\nYet would the village praise my wondrous power,\\nAnd dance, forgetful of the noon-tide hour.\\nAlike all ages. Dames of ancient days\\nHave led their children through the mirthful maze\\nD2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "38 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd the gay grandsire, skill d in gestic lore,\\nHas frisk d beneath the burthen of threescore.\\nSo blest a life these thoughtless realms display?\\nThus idly busy rolls their world away.\\nTheirs are those arts that mind to mind endear t\\nFor honor forms the social temper here.\\nHonor, that praise which real merit gains,\\nOr ev n imaginary worth obtains,\\nHere passes current paid from hand to hand,\\nit shifts, in splendid traffic, round the land\\nFrom courts to camps, to cottages it strays,\\nAnd all are taught an avarice of praise;\\nThey please, are pleased they give to get esteem,\\nTill, seeming blest, they grow to what they seem.\\nBut, while this softer art their blis3 supplies,\\nIt gives their follies also room to rise\\nTor praise too dearly loved, or warmly sought.\\nEnfeebles all internal strength of thought\\nAnd the weak soul, within itself unblest,\\nXeans for all pleasure on another s breast.\\nHence ostentation here, with tawdry art,\\nPants for the vulgar praise which fools impart.\\nHere vanity assumes her pert grimace,\\nAnd trims her robes of frieze with copper lace\\nHere beggar pride defrauds her daily cheer,\\nTo boast one splendid banquet once a year\\nThe mind still turns where shifting fashion draws.\\nNor weighs the solid worth of self applause.\\nTo men of other minds my fancy flies,\\nEmbosom d in the deep where Holland lies.\\nMethinks her patient sons before me stand,\\n.Where the broad ocean leans against the land,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 39\\nAnd, sedulous to stop the coming tide,\\nLift the tall rampire s artificial pride.\\nOnward, methinks, and diligently slow,\\nThe firm connected bulwark seems to grow\\nSpreads its long arms amidst the watery roaiy\\nScoops out an empire, and usurps the shore\\nWhile the pent ocean, rising o er the pile,\\nSees an amphibious world beneath him smile j\\nThe slow canal, the yellow blossom d vale,\\nThe willow-tufted bank, the gliding sail,\\nThe crowded mart, the cultivated plain?\\nA new creation, rescued from his reign.\\nThus, while around the wave- subjected soil\\nImpels the native to repeated toil,\\nIndustrious habits in each bosom reign,\\nAnd industry begets a love of gain.\\nHence all the good from opulence that springs,\\nWith all those ills superfluous treasure brings,\\nAre here display d. Their much loved wealth imparts-\\nConvenience, plent} r elegance, and arts;\\nBut view them closer, craft and fraud appear 5\\nEv n liberty itself is barter d here.\\nAt gold s superior charms all freedom flies\\nThe needy sell it, and the rich man buys 5\\nA land of tyrants, and a den of slaves\\nHere wretches seek dishonorable graves?\\nAnd calmly bent, to servitude conform,\\nDull as their lakes that slumber in the storm.\\nHeavens how unlike their Belgic sires of old\\nRough, poor, content, ungovernably bold\\nWar in each breast, and freedom on each brov\\nHow much unlike the sons of Britain now", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "40 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nFired at the sound, my genius spreads her wing.\\nAnd flies where Britain courts the western springy\\nWhere lawns extend that scorn Arcadian pride,\\nAnd brighter streams than famed Hydaspis glide.\\nThere all around the gentlest breezes stray\\nThere gentle music melts on every spray\\nCreation s mildest charms are there combined\\nExtremes are only in the master s mind\\nStern o er each bosom reason holds her state,\\nWith daring aims irregularly great\\nPride in their port, defiance in their eye,\\nI see the lords of human kind pass by\\nIntent on high designs, a thoughtful band,\\nBy forms unfashion d, fresh from nature s hand\\nFierce in their native hardiness of soul,\\nTrue to imagined right, above control,\\nWhile ev n the peasant boasts these rights to scan.\\nAnd learns to venerate himself as man.\\nThine, Freedom, thine the blessings pictured here,.\\nThine are those charms that dazzle and endear\\nToo blest indeed, were such without alloy,\\nBut, foster d ev n by freedom, ills annoy\\nThat independence Britons prize too high,\\nKeeps man from man, and breaks the social tie.\\nThe self-dependent lordlings stand alone,\\nAll claims that bind and sweeten life unknown.\\nHere, by the bonds of nature feebly held,\\nMinds combat minds, repelling and repell d.\\nFerments arise, imprison d factions roar,\\nRepress d ambition struggles round the shore,\\nTill, over-wrought, the general system feels\\nIts motions stop, or frenzy fire the wheels.\\nNor this the worst. As nature s ties decay,\\nAs duty, love, and honor, fail to sway,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 4i\\nFictitious bonds, the bonds of wealth and law,\\nStill gather strength, and force unwilling awe.\\nHence all obedience bows to these alone,\\nAnd talent sinks, and merit weeps unknown\\nTill time may come, when, stripp d ot a.11 her charms.,\\nThe land of scholars, and the nurse of arms,\\nWhere noble steins transmit the patriot flame,\\nV/here kings have toil d and poets wrote for fame,\\nOne sink of level avarice shall lie,\\nAnd scholars, soldiers, kings, unhonor d die.\\nYet think not, thus when Freedom s ills I state,\\nI mean to flatter kings, or court the great\\nYe powers of truth that bid my soul aspire,\\nFar from my bosom drive the low desire;\\nAnd thou, fair Freedom, taught alike to feel\\nThe rabble s rage, and tyrant s angry steel 5\\nThou transitory flower, alike undone\\nBy proud contempt, or favors fostering sun,\\nStill may thy blooms the changeful clime endure,.\\nI only would repress them to secure\\nFor just experience tells, in every soil,\\nThat those who think must govern those that toil\\nAnd all that Freedom s highest aims can reach,\\nIs but to lay proportion d loads on each,\\nHence, should one order disproportion^ grow,\\nIts double weight must ruin all below.\\nO then, how blind to all that truth requires,\\nWho think it freedom when a part aspires\\nCalm is my soul, nor apt to rise in arms,\\nExcept when fast-approaching danger warms\\nBut, when contending chiefs blockade the thrones\\nContracting regal power to stretch their own", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "42 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWhen I behold a factious band agree\\nTo call it freedom when themselves are free\\nEach wanton judge new penal statutes draw,\\nLaws grind the j/oor, and rich men rule the law\\nThe wealth of climes, where savage nations roam,\\nPillaged from slaves to purchase slaves at home 5\\nFear, pity, justice, indignation, start,\\nTear off reserve, and bare my swelling heart 5\\nTill, half a patriot, half a coward grown,\\nI fly from petty tyrants to the throne.\\nYes, brother, curse with me that baleful hour,\\nWhen first ambition struck at regal power\\nAnd, thus polluting honor in its source,\\nGave wealth to sway the mind with double force.\\nHave we not seen, round Britain s peopled shore,\\nHer useful sons exchanged for useless ore\\nSeen all her triumphs but destruction haste,\\nLike flaring tapers brightening as they waste 5\\nSeen opulence, her grandeur to maintain,\\nLead stern depopulation in her train,\\nAnd, over fields where scatter d hamlets rose,\\nIn barren, solitary pomp repose\\nHave we not seen, at pleasure s lordly call,\\nThe smiling, long-frequented village fall\\nBeheld the duteous son, the sire decay d,\\nThe modest matron, and the blushing maid,\\nForced from their homes, a melancholy train,\\nTo traverse climes beyond the western main\\nWhere wild Oswego spreads her swamps around.\\nAnd Niagara stuns with thundering sound\\nEv n now, perhaps, as there some pilgrim strays\\nThrough tangled forests, and through dangerous way-", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWhere beasts with man divided empire claim,\\nAnd the brown Indian marks with murderous aim\\nThere, while above the giddy tempest flies,\\nAnd all around distressful yells arise,\\nThe pensive exile, bending with his woe,\\nTo stop too fearful, and too faint to go,\\nCasts a long look where England s glories shine.\\nAnd bids his bosom sympathize with mine.\\nVain, very vain, my weary search to find\\nThat bliss which only centers in the mind\\nWhy have I stray d from pleasure and repose,\\nTo seek a good each government bestows\\nIn every government, though terrors reign.\\nThough tyrant kings, or tyrant laws restrain.\\nHow small, of all that human hearts endure,\\nThat part which laws or kings can cause or care\\nStill to ourselves in every place consign d,\\nOur own felicity we make or find\\nWith secret course, which no loud storms annoy,\\nGlides the smooth current of domestic joy.\\nThe lifted axe, the agonizing wheel,\\nLuke s iron crown, and Damien s bed of steel,\\nTo men remote from power but rarely known,\\nLeave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "44 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTHE MIKSTREL;\\nOR,\\nTHE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.\\nBY JAMES BEATTIE, L. L. D.\\nBOOK I.\\nI.\\nAH who can tell how hard it is to climb\\nThe steep where Fame s proud temple shines afar\\nAh who can tell how many a soul sublime\\nHas felt the influence of malignant star,\\nAnd waged with Fortune an eternal war\\nCheck d by the scoff of Pride, by Envy s frown,\\nAnd Poverty s unconquerable bar,\\nIn life s low vale remote has pined alone,\\nThen dropp d into the grave, unpitied and unknown\\nII.\\nAnd yet the languor of inglorious days\\nNot equally oppressive is to all\\nHim who ne er listen d to the voice of praise,\\nThe silence of neglect can ne er appal.\\nThere are, who, deaf to mad Ambition s call,\\nWould shrink to hear th obstreperous trump of Fame\\nSupremely blest, if to their portion fall\\nHealth, competence, and peace. Nor higher aim\\nHad he, whose simple tale these artless lines proclaim.\\nIII.\\nThe rolls of fame I will not now explore\\nNor need I here describe, in learned lay,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY* 4o\\nHow forth The Minstrel fared in days of yore,\\nRight glad of heart, though homely in array\\nHis waving locks and beard all hoary gray\\nWhile, from his bending shoulder, decent hung\\nHis harp, the sole companion of his way,\\nWhich to the whistling wind responsive rung\\nAnd ever as he went some merry lay he sung.\\nIV,\\nFret not thyself, thou glittering child of pride,\\nThat a poor villager inspires my strain\\nWith thee let Pageantry and Power abide\\nThe gentle Muses haunt the sylvan reign\\nWhere, through wild groves, at eve the lonely swain\\nEnraptured roams, to gaze on Nature s charms.\\nThey hate the sensual, and scorn the vain 5\\nThe parasite their influence never warms,\\nNor him whose sordid soul the love of gold alarms.\\nV.\\nThough richest hues the peacock s plumes adorn,\\nYet horror screams from his discordant throat.\\nRise, sons of harmony, and hail the morn,\\nWhile warbling larks on russet pinions float\\nOr seek at noon the woodland scene remote,\\nWhere the gray linnets carol from the hill.\\nO let them ne er, with artificial note,\\nTo please a tyrant, strain the little bill,\\nBut sing what Heaven inspires, and wander where the*\\nwill.\\nVI.\\nLiberal, not lavish, is kind Nature s hand\\nNor was perfection made for man below\\nYet all her schemes with nicest art are plann d.\\nE", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "4 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nGood counteracting ill, and gladness woe.\\nWith gold and gems if Chilian mountains glow.\\nIf bleak and barren Scotia s hills arise\\nThere plague and poison, lust and rapine grow j\\nHere peaceful are the vales, and pure the skies,\\nAnd freedom fires the soul 5 and sparkles in the eyes.\\nVII.\\nTiien grieve not, thou, to whom th indulgent Muse\\nVouchsafes a portion of celestial fire\\nNor blame the partial Fates, if they refuse\\nTh imperial banquet, and the rich attire.\\nKnow thine own worth, and reverence the lyre.\\nWilt thou debase the heart which God refined\\nNo let thy heaven-taught soul to heaven aspire,\\nTo fancy, freedom, harmony, resign d\\nAmbition s grovelling crew for ever left behind.\\nVIII.\\nCanst thou forego the pure ethereal soul,\\nIn each fine sense so exquisitely keen,\\nOn the dull couch of Luxury to loll,\\nStung with disease, and stupified with spleen\\nFain to implore the aid of Flattery s screen,\\nEv n from thyself thy loathsome heart to hide,\\n(The mansion then no more of joy serene)\\nWhere fear, distrust, malevolence, abide,\\nAnd impotent desire, and disappointed pride\\nIX.\\nO how canst thou renounce the boundless store\\nOf charms which Nature to her votary yields*\\nThe warbling woodland, the resounding shore,\\nThe pomp of groves, and garniture of fields\\nAH that the genial ray of morning gilds,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 47\\nAnd all that echoes to the song of even,\\nAll that the mountain s sheltering bosom shields,\\nAnd all the dread magnificence of heaven,\\nO how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven\\nX.\\nThese charms shall work thy souPs eternal health,\\nAnd love, and gentleness, and joy, impart.\\nBut these thou must renounce, if lust of wealth\\nE er win its way to thy corrupted heart\\nFor, ah it poisons like a scorpion s dart\\nPrompting th ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme,\\nThe stern resolve, unmoved by pity s smart\\nThe troublous day, and long distressful dream.\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nReturn, my roving Muse, resume thy purposed theme,\\nXI.\\nThere lived, in Gothic days, as legends tell,\\nA shepherd -swain, a man of low degree\\nWhose sires, perchance, in Fairyland might dwell,\\nSicilian groves, or vales of Arcady\\nBut he, I ween, was of the north countrie\\nA nation famed for song, and beauty s charms\\nZealous, yet modest; innocent though free 5\\nPatient of toil serene amidst alarms\\nInflexible in faith invincible in arms.\\nXII.\\nThe shepherd -swain of whom I mention made,\\nOn Scotia s mountains fed his little flock\\nThe sickle, scythe, or plough, he never sway d\\nAn honest heart was almost all his stock\\nHis drink the living water from the rock;\\nThe milky dams supplied his board, and lent\\nTheir kindly fleece to baffle winter s shpck", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "48 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent.\\nDid guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoever they\\nwent.\\nXIII.\\nFrom labor health, from health contentment spring* j\\nContentment opes the source of every joy.\\nHe envied not, he never thought of kings\\nNor from those appetites sustain d annoy,\\nThat chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy\\nNor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled\\nHe mourn d no recreant friend, nor mistress coy,\\nFor on his vows the blameless Phcebe smiled,\\nAnd her alone he loved, and loved her from a child*\\nXIV.\\nNo jealousy their dawn of love o ercast,\\nNor blasted were their wedded days with strife j\\nEach season Iook d delightful as it pass d,\\nTo the fond husband, and the faithful wife.\\nBeyond the lowly vale of shepherd life\\nThey never roam d secure beneatli ihe storm\\nWhich in Ambition s lofty land is rife,\\nWhere peace and love are canker d by the worm\\nOf pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform.\\nXV.\\nThe wight whose tale these artless lines unfold,\\nWas all the offspring of this humble pair.\\nHis birth no oracle or seer foretold\\nNo prodigy appeared in earth or air,\\nNor aught that might a strange event declare.\\nYou guess each circumstance of Edwin s birth\\nThe parent s transport, and the parent s care\\nThe gossip s prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth\\nAnd one long summer-day of indolence and mirth.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 49\\nXVI.\\nAnd yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy\\nDeep thought oft seem d to fix his infant eye.\\nDainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy,\\nSave one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy.\\nSilent when glad affectionate, though shy\\nAnd now his look was most demurely sad,\\nAnd now he laugh d aloud, yet none knew why.\\nThe neighbors stared and sigh d,yet bless d the lad\\nSome deem d him wondrous wise, and some believed\\nhim mad,\\nXVII.\\nBut why should I his childish feats display\\nConcourse, and noise, and toil, he ever fled 5\\nNor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray\\nOf squabbling imps, but to the forest sped,\\nOr roam d at large the ftmely mountain s head 5\\nOr, where the maze of some bewilder d stream\\nTo deep untrodden groves his footsteps led,\\nThere would he wander wild, till Phoebus beam,\\nShot from the western cliff, released the weary team,\\nXVIII.\\nTh exploit of strength,, dexterity, or speed,\\nTo him nor vanity nor joy could bring.\\nHis heart, from cruel sport estranged, would bleed\\nTo work the woe of any living thing,\\nBy trap, or net 5 by arrow, or by sling\\nThese he detested, those lie scorn d to wield\\nHe wish d to be the guardian, not the king,\\nTyrant far less, or traitor, of the field,\\nAnd sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield.\\nE 2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "50 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXIX.\\nXo where the stripling, wrapp d in wonder, rove-\\nBeneath the precipice o erhung with pine\\nAnd sees, on high, amidst th encircling groves,\\nFrom cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine\\nWhile waters, woods, and winds, in concert join,\\nAnd Echo swells the chorus to the skies.\\nWould Edwin this majestic scene resign\\nFor aught the huntsman s puny craft supplies\\nAh no he better knows great Nature s charms to\\nprize.\\nXX.\\nAnd oft he traced the uplands, to survey.\\nWhen o er the sky advanced the kindling dawn.\\nThe crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain gray,\\nAnd lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn\\nFar to the west, the long, long vale withdrawn,\\nWhere twilight loves to linger for a while\\nAnd now he faintly kens the bounding fawn t\\nAnd villager abroad at early toil.\\nBut, io the sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean,\\nsmile*\\nXXI.\\nAnd oft the craggy cliff he loved to climb,\\nWhen all in mist the world below was lost.\\nWhat dreadful pleasure there to stand sublime,\\nLike shipwreck d mariner on desert coast,\\nAnd view th enormous waste of vapor, tost\\nIn billows, lengthening to the horizon round,\\nNow scocp d in gulfs, with mountains now emboss- d 1\\nAnd hear the voice of mirth and song rebound,\\nFlocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound T", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 91\\nXXII.\\nIn truth he was a strange- and wayward wight,\\nFond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene.\\nIi* darkness, and in storm, he found delight\\nNor less, than when on ocean wave serene\\nThe southern sun diffused his dazzling sheen.\\nEv n sad vicissitude amused his soul\\nAnd if a sigh would sometimes intervene.\\nAnd down his cheek a tear of pity roll,\\nA sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wislvd. not to control.\\nxxirr.\\nO ye wild groves, O where is now your bloom v\\n(The Muse interprets thus his tender thought.)\\nYour flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom*\\nOf late so grateful in the hour of drought\\nWhy do the birds, that song and rapture brought\\nTo all your bowers, their mansions now forsake\\nAh why has fickle chance this ruin wrought\\nFor now the storm howls mournful through the\\nbrake.\\nAnd the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake,\\nXXIV.\\nWhere now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool,\\nAnd meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty,.\\ncrown M 2-\\nAh see, th 9 unsightly slime, and sluggish pool,\\nl a Have all the solitary vale imbrowird\\nFled each fair form, and mute each melting sound,\\nThe raven croaks forlorn on naked spray,\\nAnd hark the river, bursting every mound,\\nDown the vale thunders, and, with wasteful sway,\\nT proots the grove, and rolls the shattered rocks away", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "tt BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXXV.\\na Yet such the destiny of all on earth\\nSo flourishes and fades majestic Man.\\n44 Fair is the hud his vernal morn brings forth,\\n4 And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan.\\nO smile, ye heavens, serene ye mildews wan,\\nu Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime\\n44 Nor lessen of his life the little span.\\n44 Borne on the swift, though silent, wings of time,\\nOld age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.\\nXXVI.\\nAnd be it so. Let those deplore their doom,\\nWhose hopes still grovel in this dark sojourn.\\n44 But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb,\\n44 Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.\\n44 Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return\\n44 Is yonder wave the sun s eternal bed\\nSoon shall the orient with new lustre burn,\\n44 And spring shall soon her vital influence shed-,\\nAgain attune the grove, again adorn the mead-.\\nXXVII.\\nShall I be left forgotten in the dust,\\n44 When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive\\nShall Nature s voice, to man alone unjust,\\n44 Bid him, though doom d to perish, hope to live\\n44 Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive\\n44 With disappointment, penury and pain r\\n64 No Heaven s immortal spring shall yet arrive,\\n44 And man s majestic beauty bloom again,\\nf* Bright through th eternal year of Love s triumphant\\nreign.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 55,\\nXXVIIL\\nThis truth sublime his simple sire had taught,\\nIn sooth. twas almost all the shepherd knew,\\nNo subtle nor superfluous lore he sought,\\nNor ever wish d his Edwin to pursue.\\nu Let man s own sphere, said he, confine his view.\\nH Be man s peculiar work his sole delight.\\nAnd much, and oft, he warn d him, to eschew\\nFalsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right,\\nBy pleasure unreduced, unawed by lawless might.\\nXXIX.\\ni; And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Wee,\\nO never, never turn away thine ear,\\nForlorn, in this bleak wilderness below,\\nAh what were man, should Heaven refuse to\\nhear\\nTo others do (the law is not severe)\\nWhat to thyself thou wishest to be done.\\na Forgive thy foes and love thy parents dear,\\nAnd friends, and native land nor those alone\\nj* All human weal and woe learn thou to make thine\\nown.\\nXXX.\\nSee, in the rear of the warm sunny shower.\\nThe visionary boy from shelter fly\\nFor now the storm of summer rain is o er,\\nAnd cool, and fresh, and fragrant is the sky\\nAnd lo in the dark east, expanded high,\\nThe rainbow brightens to the setting sun\\nFond fool, that deem st the streaming glory nigh.\\nHow vain the ehace thine ardor has begun\\n*TU fled afar, ere half thy purposed race be rum", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "54 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXXXI.\\nYet couldst thou learn, that thus it fares with age.\\nWhen pleasure, wealth, or power, the bosom warm.\\nThis baffled hope might tame thy manhood s rage,\\nAnd disappointment of her sting disarm.\\nBut why should foresight thy fond heart alarm\\nPerish the lore that deadens young desire\\nPursue, poor imp, th imaginary charm,\\nIndulge gay hope, and fancy s pleasing fire\\nFancy and hope too soon shall of themselves expire.\\nXXXII.\\nWhen the long sounding curfew from afar\\nLoaded with loud lament the lonely gale,\\nYoung Edwin, lighted by the evening star,.\\nLingering and listening, wander d down the vale.\\nThere would he dream of graves, and corses pale\\nAnd ghosts, that to the charnel-dungeon throng,\\nAnd drag a length of clanking chain, and wail,\\nTill silenced by the owl s terrific song,\\nOr blast that shrieks by fits the shuddering aisles along.\\nXXXIII.\\nOr, when the setting moon, in crimson dyed,\\nHung o er the dark and melancholy deep,\\nTo haunted stream, remote from man he hied,\\nWhere fays of yore their revels wont to keep\\nAnd there let fancy rove at large, till sleep\\nA vision brought to his entranced sight,\\nAnd first, a wildly murmuring wind gan creep\\nShrill to his ringing ear then tapers bright,\\nWith instantaneous gleam, illumed the vault of night.\\nXXXIV.\\nAnon in view a portal s blazon d arch\\nArose, the trumpet bids the valves unfold i", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. S3\\nAnd forth an host of little w arriors march,\\nGrasping the diamond lance, and targe of gold.\\nTheir k)ok was gentle, their demeanor bold,\\nAnd green their helms, and green their silk attire\\nAnd here and there, right venerably old,\\nThe long-robed minstrels wake the warbling wire,\\nAnd some with mellow breath the martial pipe inspire,\\nXXXV,\\nWith merriment, and song, and timbrels clear,\\nA troop of dames from myrtle bowers advance\\nThe little warriors doff the targe and spear,\\nAnd loud enlivening strains provoke the dance.\\nThey meet, they dart away, they wheel askance\\nTo right, to left, they thrid the flying maze\\nNow bound aloft with vigorous spring, then glance\\nRapid along with many color d rays\\nOf tapers, gems, and gold, the echoing forests blaze,\\nXXXVI.\\nThe dream is fled. Proud harbinger of day,\\nWho scaredst the vision with thy clarion shrilL\\nFell chanticleer who oft hast reft away\\nMy fancied good, and brought substantial ill\\nO to thy cursed scream, discordant still,\\nLet harmony aye shut her gentle ear\\nThy boastful mirth let jealous rivals spill,\\nInsult thy crest, and glossy pinions tear,\\nAnd ever in thy dreams the ruthless fox appear.\\nXXXVII.\\nForbear, my Muse. Let love attune thy line.\\nRevoke the spell. Thine Edwin frets not so.\\nFor how should he at wicked chance repine.\\n/Who feels from every change amusement flov,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "56 BEAUTIES OF POETRV.\\nEv n now his eyes with smiles of rapture glow.\\nAs on he wanders through the scenes of morn,\\nWhere the fresh flowers in living lustre blow,\\nWhere thousand pearls the dewy lawns adorn,\\nA thousand notes of joy in every breeze are borne.\\nXXXVIII.\\nBut who the melodies of morn can tell\\nThe wild brook babbling down the mountain s side\\nThe lowing herd the sheepfold s simple bell 5\\nThe pipe of early shepherd dim descried\\nIn the lone valley echoing far and wide\\nThe clamorous horn along the cliffs above\\nThe hollow murmur of the ocean-tide\\nThe hum of bees, the linnet s lay of love,\\nAnd the full choir that wakes the universal grove.\\nXXXIX.\\nThe cottage curs at early pilgrim bark\\nCrown d with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings,\\nThe whistling ploughman stalks afield and, hark\\nDown the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings\\nThrough rustling corn the hare astonish d springs\\nSlow tolls the village-clock the drowsy hour 5\\nThe partridge bursts away on whirring wings\\nDeep mourns the turtle in sequester d bower,\\nAnd shrill lark carols clear from her aerial tour.\\nXL.\\nO Nature, how in every charm supreme\\nWhose votaries feast on raptures ever new\\nO for the voice and fire of seraphim,\\nTo sing thy glories with devotion due\\nBlest be the day I scaped the wrangling crew.\\nVrom Pyrrho 3 mare, and Epicurus sty;", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd held high converse with the godlike few,\\nWho, to th enraptured heart, and ear, and eye,\\nTeach beauty, virtue, truth, and love, and melody,\\nXLI.\\nHence ye who snare and stupify the mind,\\nSophists, oi beauty, virtue, joy, the bane\\nGreedy and fell, though impotent and blind,\\nWho spread your filthy nets in Truth s fair fane,\\nAnd ever ply your venom d fangs amain\\nHence to dark Error s den, whose rankling slime\\nFirst gave you form 1 hence lesr the Muse should\\ndeign\\n(Though loth on theme so mean to waste a rhyme)\\nWith vengeance to pursue your sacrilegious crime,\\nXLI1.\\nBut hail, ye mighty masters of the lay,\\nNature s true sons, the friends of man and truth\\nWhose song, sublimely sweet, serenely gay,\\nAmused my childhood, and infornvd my youth.\\nO let your spirit still my bosom soothe,\\nInspire my dreams, and my wild wanderings guide\\nYour voice each rugged path of life can smooth\\nFor well I know, wherever ye reside,\\nThere harmony, and peace, and innocence, abide.\\nXLIII.\\nAh me neglected on the lonesome plain,\\nAs yet poor Edwin never knew your lore.\\nSave when, against the winter s drenching rain\\nAnd driving snow, the cottage shut the door.\\nThen, as instructed by tradition hoar,\\nHer legends when the Beldam gan impart,\\nOr chant the old heroic dittv o er,\\nF", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "58 BEAUTIES OF POETRF.\\nWonder and joy ran thrilling to his heart;\\nMuch he the tale admired, but more the tuneful art.\\nXLIV.\\nVarious and strange was the long-winded tale\\nAnd halls, and knights, and feats of arms, displayed\\nOr merry swains, who quaff the nut-brown ale,\\nAnd sing enamor d of the nut-brown maid\\nThe moon -light revel of the fairy glade\\nOr hags, that suckle an infernal brood,\\nAnd ply in caves th unutterable trade,*\\nMidst fiends and spectres, quench the moon in blood,\\nYell in the midnight storm, or ride th infuriate flood.\\nXLV.\\nBut when to horror his amazement rose,\\nA gentler strain the Beldam would rehearse,\\nA tale of rural life, a tale of woes,\\nThe orphan -babes, and guardian uncle fierce.\\nO cruel will no pang of pity pierce\\nThat heart by lust of lucre sear d to stone\\nFor sure, if aught of virtue last, or verse,\\nTo latest times shall tender souls bemoan\\nThose helpless orphan-babes, by thy fell arts undone.\\nXLVI.\\nBehold, with berries smear d, with brambles torn,t\\nThe babes, now famish d, lay them down to die.\\nMidst the wild howl of darksome woods forlorn,\\nFolded in one another s arms they lie 5\\nNor friend, nor stranger, hears their dying cry\\nMacbeth. H010 no-w, ye secret, black, and midnight hagS,\\nWhat is t you do\\nWitches. A deed without a name.\\nSee the Jim old~balSad t called, tThe Children in the Wood.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 59\\n(i For from the town the man returns no more.\\nBut thou, who Heaven s just vengeance darest defy,\\nThis deed with fruitless tears shalt soon deplore,\\nWhen death lays waste thy house, and flames consume\\nthy store.\\nXLVII.\\nA stifled smile of stern vindictive joy\\nBrighten d one moment Edwin s starting tear.\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nBut why should gold man s feeble mind decoy,\\n6i And innocence thus die by doom severe\\nO Edwin while thy heart is jet sincere,\\nTh assaults of discontent and doubt repel\\nDark ev n at noontide is our mortal sphere r\\nBut let us hope, to doubt, is to rebel,\\nLet U9 exult in hope, that all shall jet be well.\\nXLVIII.\\nNor be thy generous indignation check d.\\nNor check d the tender tear to misery given\\nFrom guilt s contagious power shall that protect,\\nThis soften and refine the soul for heaven.\\nBut dreadful is their doom, whom doubt has driven\\nTo censure fate and pious hope forego\\nLike yonder blasted boughs by lightning riven,\\nPerfection, beauty, life, they never know,\\nBut frown on all that pass, a monument of woe,\\nXLIX.\\nShall he, whose birth, maturity, and age,\\nScarce fill the circle of one summer day,\\nShall the poor gnat with discontent and rage\\nExclaim, that Nature hastens to decay,\\nIf but a cloud obstruct the solar ray,\\nIf but a momentary shower descend", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "to BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nOr shall frail man Heaven s dread decree gainsay.:\\nWhich bade the series of events extend\\nWide through unmimber d worlds, and ages without\\nend\\nL.\\nOne part, one little part, we dimly scan\\nThrough the dark medium of life s feverish dream\\nYet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan,\\nIf but that little part incongruous seem.\\nIs or is that part perhaps what mortals deem 5\\nOft from apparent ill our blessings rise.\\nthen renounce that impious self-esteem,\\nThat aims to trace the secrets of the skies\\nFor thou art but of dust be humble, and be wise.\\nLI.\\nThus Heaven enlarged his soul in riper years,\\nFor Nature gave him strength and fire, to soar,\\nOn Fancy s wing, above this vale of tears;\\nWhere dark, cold-hearted sceptics, creeping, pore\\nThrough microscope of metaphysic lore\\nAnd much they grope for truth, but never hit.\\nFor why their powers, inadequate before,\\nThis idle art makes more and more unfit\\nYet deem they darkness light, and their vain blunders\\nwit.\\nLII.\\nNor was this ancient dame a foe to mirth\\nHer ballad, jest, and riddle s quaint device,\\nOft cheer d the shepherds round their social hearth 5\\nWhom levity or spleen could ne er entice\\nTo purchase chat or laughter, at the price\\nOf decency. Nor let it faith exceed,\\nThat Nature forms a rustic taste so uice.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 61\\nAh had they been of court or city breed,\\nSuch delicacy were right marvellous indeed,\\nLIII.\\nOft when the winter-storm had ceased to rave*\\nHe roain d the snowy waste at even, to view\\nThe cloud stupendous, from the Atlantic wave\\nHigh towering, sail along the horizon blue\\nWhere, midst the changeful scenery ever new,\\nFancy a thousand wondrous forms descries,\\nMore wildly great than ever pencil drew.\\nRocks, torrents, gulfs, and shapes of giant size;\\nAnd glittering cliffs on cliffs, and fiery ramparts rise!\\nLIV.\\nThence musing onward to the sounding shore.,\\nThe lone enthusiast oft would take his way,\\nListening with pleasing dread to the deep roar\\nOf the wide-weltering waves. In black array\\nWhen sulphurous clouds roll d on the vernal day,\\nEv n then he hasten d from the haunt of man,\\nAlong the trembling wilderness to stray,\\nWhat time the lightning s fierce career began,\\nAnd o er Heaven s rending arch the rattling thunder ran\\nLV.\\nResponsive to the sprightly pipe, when all\\nIn sprightly dance the village youth were join d,\\nEdwin, of melody aye held in thrall,\\nFrom the rude gambol far remote reclined,\\nSoothed with the soft notes warbling in the wind.\\nAh then, all jollity seem d noise and folly.\\nTo the pure soul by Fancy s fire refined,\\nAh what is mirth but turbulence unholy,\\nWhen with the charm compared of heavenly melancholy\\nFft", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "C z BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nLVI.\\nIs there a heart that music cannot melt\\nAlas how is that rugged heart forlorn\\nIs there, who ne er those mystic transports felt\\nOf solitude and melancholy born\\nHe needs not woo the Muse he is her scorn.\\nThe sophist s rope of cobwebs he shall twine\\nMope o er the schoolman s peevish page or ropurn,\\nAnd delve for life, in Mammon s dirty mine\\n\u00c2\u00a3neak with the scoundrel fox, or grunt with glutton\\nswine.\\nLYII.\\nFor Edwin, Fate a nobler doom had planned\\n{Song was his favorite and first pursuit.\\nThe wild harp rang to his adventurous hand,\\nAnd languish d to his breath the plaintive flute\\nHis infant Muse, though artless, was not mute\\nOf elegance as yet he took no care\\nFor this of time and culture is the fruit\\nAnd Edwin gain d at last this fruit so rare\\nAs in some future verse I purpose to declare.\\nLVIII.\\nMeanwhile, whate er of beautiful, or new,\\nSublime, or dreadful, in earth, sea, or sky,\\nBy chance, or search, was ofFer d to his view,\\nHe scann d with curious and romantic eye.\\nAVhate er of lore tradition could supply\\nFrom Gothic tale, or song, or fable old,\\nRoused him, still keen to listen and to pry.\\nAt last, though long by penury control d,\\nAnd solitude, his soul her graces gan unfold,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 03\\nLIX.\\nThus on the chill Lapponian s dreary land.\\nFor many a long month lost in snow profound,\\nWfeen Sol from Cancer sends the season bland,\\nAnd in their northern cave the storms are bound\\nFrom silent mountains, straight, with startling sound.\\nTorrents are hurl d green hills emerge and lo,\\nThe trees with foliage? cliffs with flowers are crown d\\nPure rills, through vales of verdure, warbling go\\nAnd wonder, love, and joy^the peasant s heart o er-\\nflow.*\\nLX.\\nHere pause, my Gothic lyre, a little while.\\nThe leisure hour is all that thou canst claim\\nBut on this verse if Montague should smile,\\nNew strains erelong shall animate thy frame\\nAnd her applause to me is more than fame\\nFor still with truth accords her taste refined*\\nAt lucre or renown let others aim,\\nI only wish to please the gentle mind,\\nWhom Nature s charms inspire, and love of human-\\nkind.\\nSpring and autumn are hardly kno-wn to the Laplanders. JLogvZ\\nthe time the swi enters Cancer, their fields, -which a week before -were\\ncovered -with snow, appeal on a sudden full of grass cmdfio?vers-\u00c2\u00b0~-\\nScUeffer s History of Lapland, p. 16.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "64 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTHE MINSTREL;\\nOR,\\nTHE PROGRESS OF GENIUS.\\nBY JAMES BEATTIE, L. L. D.\\nBOOK II.\\nI.\\nOF chance or change O let not man complain\\n\u00c2\u00a3lse shall he never, never cease to wail\\nFor, from th imperial dome, to where the swain\\nRears the lone cottage in the silent dale.\\nAll feel th assault of Fortune s fickle gale\\nArt, empire, earth itself, to change are doom d\\nEarthquakes have raised to heaven the humble vale,\\nAnd gulfs the mountain s mighty mass entomb d,\\nAnd, where th Atlantic rolls, wide continents have\\nbloom d.*\\nII.\\nBut sure to foreign climes we need not range,\\nNor search the ancient records of our race,\\nTo learn the dire effects of time and change,\\nWhich in ourselves, alas we daily trace.\\nYet, at the darken d eye, the wither d face,\\nOr hoary hair, I never will repine\\nBut spare, O Time, whate er of mental grace,\\nOf candor, love, or sympathy divine,\\nWhate er of fancy s ray, or friendship s flame, is mine,\\nSee Plato s Timeus.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 6.5\\nIII.\\nSo I, obsequious to Truth s dread command,\\nShall here, without reluctance, change my lay,\\nAnd smite the Gothic lyre with harsher hand 5\\nNow when I leave that flowery path for aye\\nOf childhood, where I sported many a day,\\nWarbling and sauntering carelessly along 5\\nWhere every face was innocent and gay,\\nEach vale romantic, tuneful every tongue,\\nSweet, wild, and artless all, as Edwin s infant song.\\nIV.\\nPerish the lore that deadens young desire,-\\nIs the soft tenor of my song no more.\\nEdwin, though loved of Heaven, must not aspire\\nTo bliss, which mortals never knew before.\\nOn trembling wings let youthful fancy soar,\\nNor always haunt the sunny realms of joy\\nBut now and then the shades of life explore,\\nThough many a sound and sight of woe annoy,\\nAnd many a qualm of care his rising hopes destroy.\\nV.\\nVigor from toil, from trouble patience grows.\\nThe weakly blossom, warm in summer bower,\\nSome tints of transient beauty may disclose 5\\nBut, all it withers in the chilling hour.\\nMark yonder oaks Superior to the power\\nOf all the warring winds of beaven they rise,\\nAnd from the stormy promontory tower,\\nAnd toss their giant arms amid the skies,\\nWhile each assailing blast increase of strength supj\\nVI.\\nAnd now the downy cheek and deepen d voice\\nGave dignity to Edwin s blooming prime 5", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "66 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd walks of wider circuit were his choice,\\nAnd vales more wild, and mountains more sublime.\\nOne evening as he framed the careless rhyme,\\nIt was his chance to wander far abroad,\\nAnd o er a lonely eminence to climb,\\nWhich heretofore his foot had never trode\\nA vale appear d below, a deep retired abode.\\nVII.\\nThither he hied, enamor d of the scene\\nFor rocks on rocks piled, as by magic spell,\\nHere scorch d with lightning, there with ivy green*\\nFenced from the north and east this savage dell\\nSouthward a mountain rose, with easy swell,\\nWhose long, long groves eternal murmur made\\nAnd toward the western sun a streamlet fell,\\nWhere, through the cliffs, the eye, remote, survey d\\nBlue hills, and glittering waves, and skies in gold array M.\\nVIII.\\nAlong this narrow valley you might see\\nThe wild deer sporting on the meadow ground.\\nAnd, here and there, a solitary tree,\\nOr mossy stone, or rock with woodbine crown d.\\nOft did the cliffs reverberate the sound\\nOf parted fragments tumbling from on high\\nAnd from the summit of that craggy mound\\nThe perching eagle oft was heard to cry,\\nOr on resounding wings to shoot athwart the skj:\\nIX.\\nOne cultivated spot there was, that spread\\nIts flowery bosom to the noon-day beam,\\nWhere many a rose-bud rears its blushing head.\\nAnd herbs for food with future plenty teem.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 6r\\nSoothed by the lulling sound of grove and stream,\\nRomantic visions swarm on Edwin s soul\\nHe minded not the sun s last trembling gleam,\\nNor heard from far the twilight curfew toll\\nWhen slowly on his ear these moving accents stole\\nHail, awful scenes, that calm the troubled breast,\\nAnd woo the weary to profound repose\\nCan, Passion s wildest uproar lay to rest,\\na And whisper comfort to the man of woes\\nu Here Innocence may wander, safe from foes,\\na And Contemplation soar on seraph wings.\\nO Solitude, the man who thee foregoes,\\nWhen lucre lures him, or ambition stings,\\n1 Shall never know the source whence real grandeur\\nsprings.\\nXI.\\n6i Vain man, is grandeur given to gay attire\\nThen let the butterfly thy pride upbraid\\nTo friends, attendants, armies, bought with hire\\nIt is thy weakness that requires their aid\\nTo palaces, with gold and gems inlay d\\nThey fear the thief, and tremble in the storm\\nTo hosts, through carnage who to conquest wade\\nw Behold the victor vanquish d by the worm\\nBehold, what deeds of woe the locust can perform i\\nXII.\\nTrue dignity is his, whose tranquil mind\\nVirtue has raised above the things below,\\nWho, ever} r hope and fear to Heaven resign d,\\nShrinks not, though Fortune aim her deadliest\\nHow/", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "G8 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094This strain from midst the rocks was heard to flow\\nIn solemn sounds. Now beam d the evening star 5\\nAnd from embattled clouds emerging slow,\\nCynthia came riding on her silver car\\nAnd hoary mountain cliffs shone faintly from afar.\\nXIII.\\nn did the solemn voice its theme renew;\\n(While Edwin, wrapp-d in wonder, listening stood)\\ntt Ye tools and toys of tyranny, adieu,\\nScorn 71 by the wise, and.hated by the good!\\nYe only can engage the servile brood\\ni; Of Levity and Lust, who, all their days,\\nAshamed of truth and liberty, have wooTI\\nAnd hugg71 the chain, that, glittering on their gaze,\\nms to outshine the pomp of heaven s empyreal\\nblaze.\\nXIV.\\nLike them, abandon d to Ambition s sway,\\nI sought for glory in ihe paths of guile\\nAnd fawn d and smiled, to plunder and betray,\\nMyself betraj d and plunder d all the while;\\nSo gnawM the viper the corroding file.\\nBut now, with pangs of keen remorse, I rue\\n4 Those years of trouble and debasement vile.\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nYet why should I this cruel theme pursue\\nFly, fly, detested thoughts, for ever from my view.\\nXV.\\nThe gusts of appetite, the clouds of care,\\nfc And storms of disappointment, all o erpast,\\nHenceforth no earthly hope with Heaven shall shar\\nu This heart, where peace serenely shines at last.\\nt; And if for me no treasure be amass d,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 69\\n1 And if no future age shall hear my name,\\nI lurk the more secure from Fortune s blast,\\nAnd with more leisure feed this pious flame,\\nAVhose rapture far transcends the fairest hopes of\\nfame.\\nXVI.\\nThe end and the reward of toil is rest.\\nBe all my prayer for virtue and for peace.\\nOf wealth and fame, of pomp and power possess d?\\nii Who ever felt his weight of woe decrease\\nAh what avails the lore of Rome and Greece,\\nThe lay heaven-prompted, and harmonious strings\\nThe dust of Ophir, or the Tyrian fleece,\\nAll that art, fortune, enterprise, can bring,\\nIf envy, scorn, remorse, or pride, the bosom wring\\nXVII.\\nLet Vanity adorn the marble tomb\\nu With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown,\\nIn the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome,\\nWhere night and desolation ever frown,\\nMine be the breezy hill that skirts the down\\niC Where a green grassy turf is all I crave,\\nWith here and there a violet bestrown,\\nFast by a brook, or fountain s murmuring wave\\nJi And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.\\nXVIII.\\nAnd thither let the village swain repair;\\nAnd, light of heart, the village maiden gay,\\nTo deck with flowers her half-dishevelPd hair\\nAnd celebrate the merry morn of May.\\ni; There let the shepherd s pipe the live-long day\\nFill all the grove with love s bewitching woe 5\\nG", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "70 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd when mild evening comes with mantle gra\\nLet not the blooming band make haste to go\\nw No ghost nor spell my long and last abode shall know\\nXIX.\\nFor, though I fly to scape from Fortune s rage,\\nAnd bear the scars of envy, spite, and scorn,\\nYet with mankind no horrid war I wage,\\nYet with no impious spleen my breast is torn\\nFor virtue lost, and ruin d man, I mourn.\\nO man, creation s pride, Heaven s darling child,\\nWhom Nature s best, divinest gifts adorn,\\nWhy from thy home are truth and joy exiled,\\nAnd all thy favorite haunts with blood and tears\\ndefiled\\nXX.\\n4 Along yon glittering sky what glory streams\\nWhat majesty attends night s lovely queen\\nFair laugh our vallies in the vernal beams\\nAnd mountains rise, and oceans roll between,\\nAnd all conspire to beautify the scene.\\nBut, in the mental world, what chaos drear\\nW T hat forms, of mournful, loathsome, furious mien\\nt; O when shall that eternal mom appear,\\nThese dreadful forms to chase, this chaos dark to\\nclear\\nXXI.\\nO Thou, at whose creative smile, yon heaven,\\nci In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light,\\n6i Rose from th abyss when dark Confusion, driven\\n4 i Down, down the bottomless profound of night,\\n44 Fled, where he ever flies thy piercing si^ht\\n66 glance on these sad shades one pitying ray,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 7\\\\\\nTo blast the fury of oppressive might,\\nMelt the hard heart to love and mercy s sway,\\nAnd cheer the wandering soul, and light him on the\\nway.\\nXXII.\\nSilence ensued and Edwin raised his eyes\\nIn tears, for grief lay heavy at his heart.\\n4i And is it thus, in courtly life, he cries,\\nThat man to man acts a betrayer s part\\nAnd dares he thus the gifts of Heaven pervert?\\nEach social instinct, and sublime desire\\nHail, Poverty! if honor, wealth, and art,\\nIf what the great pursue, and learn d admire,\\nThus dissipate and quench the soul s ethereal fire\\nXXIII.\\nHe said, and turn d away nor did the sage\\nO erhear, in silent orisons employ d.\\nThe youth, his rising sorrow to assuage,\\nHome as he hied, the evening scene enjoy M\\nFor now no cloud obscures the starry void 5\\nThe yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills 5\\nNor is the mind with startling sounds annoy d j\\nA soothing murmur the lone region fills\\nOf groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills.\\nXXIV.\\nBut he from day to day more anxious grew,\\nThe voice still seem d to viorate on his ear,\\nNor durst he hope the hermit s tale untrue;\\nFor man he. seem d to love, and Heaven to fear\\nAnd none speaks false, where there is none to hear,\\nYet can man s gentle heart become so fell\\nNo more in vain conjecture let me wear", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "n BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nMy hours away, but seek the hermit s cell r\\nTis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care dispel v\\nXXV.\\nAt early dawn the youth his journey took,\\nAnd many a mountain pass d and valley wide,\\nThen reach d the wild where, in a flowery nook,\\nAnd seated on a mossy stone, he spied\\nAn ancient man his harp lay him beside.\\nA stag sprang from the pasture at his call,\\nAnd, kneeling, lick d the wither d hand, that tied\\nA wreath of woodbine round his antlers tall,\\nAnd hung his lofty neck with many a floweret small-\\nXXVI.\\nAnd now the hoary sage arose, and saw\\nThe wanderer approaching; innocence\\nSmiled on his glowing cheek, but modest awe\\nDepress d his eye,, that feard to give offence.\\nWho art thou, courteous stranger and from\\nwhence\\nWhy roam thy steps to this abandoned dale r\\nA shepherd-boy, the youth replied, far hence\\nMy habitation hear my artless tale\\nNor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail.\\nXXVII.\\nLate as I roam d, intent on Nature s charms,\\nI reach d at eve, this wilderness profound\\nAnd, leaning where yon oak expands her arms.\\nHeard these rude cliffs thine awful voice rebound.\\n(For in thy speech I recognise the sound.)\\n4 You mourn d for ruin d man, and virtue lost,\\nu And seem d to feel of keen remorse the wound,\\n%i Pondering on former days, by guilt emiross d,\\nOr iii the giddy storm of dissipation tos M.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 73\\nXXVIII.\\nBut say, in courtly life can craft be learn d,\\nWhere knowledge opens, and exalts the soul;\\nWhere Fortune lavishes her gifts unearn d,\\nCan selfishness the liberal heart control\\nIs glory there achieved by arts as foul\\nAs those which felons, fiends, and furies, plan\\nSpiders ensnare, snakes poison, tigers prowl\\nLove is the godlike attribute of man.\\ns teach a simple youth this mystery to scan.\\nXXIX.\\nOr else the lamentable strain disclaim,\\nAnd give me back the calm contented mind;\\nWhich late, exulting, view d, in Nature s frame,\\nGoodness untainted, wisdom unconfined,\\nGrace, grandeur, and utility, combined.\\nRestore those tranquil days, that saw me still\\nWell pleased with all, but most with human-kind\\nWhen Fancy roam d through Nature s works at\\nwill,\\nUncheck d by cold distrust, and uninform d of ill.\\nXXX.\\nWouldst thou, the sage replied, in peace return\\nTo the gay dreams of fond romantic youth,\\nLeave me to hide, in this remote sojourn,\\nFrom every gentle ear the dreadful truth\\nFor if my desultory strain with ruth\\nAnd indignation make thine eyes o erflow,\\nAlas! what comfort could thy anguish soothe,\\nShouldst thou th extent of human folly know\\n6 Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to\\nwoe.\\nG2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "74 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXXXI.\\nBut let untender thoughts afar be driven\\nNor venture to arraign the dread decree\\nFor know, to man, as candidate for heaven,\\nThe voice of The Eternal said, Be free\\nki And this divine prerogative to thee\\nDoes virtue, happiness, and heaven convey\\nFor virtue is the child of liberty,\\nAnd happiness of virtue nor can they\\nBe free to keep the path, who are not free to stray.\\nXXXII.\\nYet leave me not. I would allay that grief,\\nWhich else might thy young virtue overpower\\nAnd in thy converse I shall find relief,\\nWhen the dark shades of melancholy lower 5\\nFor solitude has many a dreary hour,\\nEv n when exempt from grief, remorse, and pain\\nCome often then for haply, in my bower,\\nAmusement, knowledge, wisdom thou mayst gain.\\nIf I one soul improve, I have not lived in vain.\\nXXXIII.\\nAnd now. at length, to Edwin s ardent gaze\\nThe Muse of history unrolls her page.\\nBut few, alas the scenes her art displays,\\nTo charm his fancy, or his heart engage.\\nHere chiefs their thirst of power in blood assuage,-\\nAnd straight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn\\nHere smiling Virtue prompts- th patriot s rage,\\nBut, lo erelong, is left alone to mourn,\\nAnd languish in the dust, and clasp th abandon d urn.\\nXXXIV.\\nk Ambition s slippery verge shall mortals tread,\\nWhere ruin s gulf unfathom d yawns beneath", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 75\\nShall life, shall liberty be lost, he said,\\nFor the vain toys that Pomp and Power bequeath r\\nThe car of victory, the plume, the wreath,\\nu Defend not from the bolt of fate the brave\\nNo note the clarion of Renown can breathe,\\nT alarm the long night of the lonely grave,\\nOr cheek the headlong haste of time s o erwhelmin\u00c2\u00ab;\\nXXXV.\\nAh, what avails, he said, to trace the springs,\\nThat whirl of empire the stupendous wheel\\nK Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings,\\n\u00c2\u00abs Hands drench d. in blood, and breasts begirt with\\nsteel\\nTo those whom Nature taught to think and feel,\\na Heroes, alas are things of small concern.\\nCould history man s secret heart reveal,\\nAnd what imports a heaven-born mind to learn,\\nHer transcripts to explore, what bosom would not\\nyearn\\nXXXVI.\\n4i This praise, Cheronean sage,* is thine.\\n(Why should this praise to thee alone belong\\nu All else from Nature s moral path decline,\\nLured by the toys that captivate the throng;\\nTo herd in cabinets and camps, among\\nSpoil, carnage, and the cruel pomp of pride\\nt; Or chant of heraldry the drowsy song,\\nHow tyrant blood, o er many a region wide,\\nRolls to a thousand thrones its execrable tide.\\nmutarcfu", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "T6 BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nXXXVII.\\nwho of man the story will unfold,\\nEre victory and empire wrought annoy,\\nIn that elysian age, (misnamed of gold)\\nThe age of love, and innocence, and joy,\\nWhen all were great and free man s sole employ\\nTo deck the bosom of his parent earth\\nw Or toward his bower the murmuring stream decoy,\\nTo aid the floweret s long-expected birth,\\nAnd lull the bed of peace, and crown the board of\\nmirth.\\nXXXVIII.\\nli Sweet were your shades, O ye primeval groves,\\nu Whose boughs to man his food and shelter lent,\\nPure in his pleasures, happy in his loves,\\nHis eyes still smiling, and his heart content.\\nu Then, hand in hand, Health, Sport, and Labor went}\\nki Nature supplied the wish she taught to crave.\\nNone prowl d for prey, none watch d to circum-\\nvent,\\nTo all an equal lot Heaven s bounty gave\\nNo vassal fear d his lord, no tyrant fear d his slave.\\nXXXIX.\\nCi But ah th historic Muse has never dared\\nTo pierce those hallow d bowers tis Fancy s\\nbeam\\nPour d on the vision of th enraptur d bard,\\nThat paints the charms of that delicious theme.\\nThen hail sweet Fancy s ray and hail the dream\\nThat weans the weary soul from guilt and woe\\nCareless what others of my choice may deem,.\\nI long where Love and Fancy lead to go,\\nM And meditate on Heaven y enough of earth I know.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 7r\\nXL.\\nI cannot blame thy choice, the sage replied,\\nM For soft and smooth are Fancy s flowery ways,\\nM And yet, even there, if left without a guide,\\nThe young adventurer unsafely plays.\\nEyes dazzled long by Fiction s gaudy rays,\\nIn modest Truth no light nor beauty find.\\nAnd who, my child, would trust the meteor blaze,\\nThat soon must fail, and leave the wanderer blind\\nMore dark and helpless far, than if it ne er had\\nsinned\\nXLI.\\nFancy enervates, wMU it soothes the heart;\\nAnd, while it dazzles, wounds the mental sight:\\nTo joy each heightening charm it can impart,\\nBut wraps the hour of woe in tenfold night.\\nAnd often where no real ills affright,\\nIts visionary fiends, an endless train,\\n4 Assail with equal or superior might,\\nAnd, through the throbbing heart, and dizzy b*ain,\\nAnd shivering nerves, shoot stings of more than mor-\\ntal pain.\\nXLIL\\nAnd yet, alas the real ills of life\\nClaim the full vigor of a mind prepared,\\nM Prepared for patient, long, laborious strife,\\nIts guide Experience, and Truth its guard.\\nw We fare on earth as other men have fared\\nWere they successful Let not us despair.\\nAVas disappointment oft their sole reward\\nYet shall their tale instruct, if it declare,\\nHow they have borne the load ourselves are doom d\\nto bear.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "78 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXLIII.\\nWhat charms th historic Muse adorn, from spoil*,,\\nAnd blood, and tyrants, when she wings her\\nflight,\\nTo hail the patriot prince, whose pious toils,\\nSacred to science, liberty, and right,\\nAnd peace, through every age divinely bright\\nShall shine the boast and wonder of mankind\\nSees yonder sun, from his meridian height,\\nA lovelier scene, than virtue thus inshrined\\nv In power, and man with man, for mutual aid, com-\\nbined\\nYLIV.\\nHail, sacred Polity, by Freedom reard\\nHail, sacred Freedom, when by Law restraint\\nWithout you what were man A grovelling herd\\nrt In darkness, wretchedness, and want, enchain d.\\nSublimed by you, the Greek and Roman reign d\\nIn arts unrivall d O, to latest days,\\nIn Albion may your influence unprofaned\\nTo godlike worth the generous bosom raise,\\nAnd prompt the sage s lore, and fire the poet s lays.\\nXLV.\\nBut now let other themes our care engage.\\nFor, lo with modest yet majestic grace,\\nTo curb Imagination s lawless rage,\\nAnd from within the cherish d heart to brace,\\nPhilosophy appears. The gloomy race\\nBy Indolence and moping Fancy bred,\\nFear, Discontent, Solicitude, give place,\\nAnd Hope and Courage brighten in their stead,\\nWhile on the kindling soul her vital beams are shed*.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 79\\nXLVI.\\nThen waken from long lethargy to life\\nii The seeds of happiness, and powers of thought\\nThen jarring appetites forego their strife,\\nA strife by ignorance to madness wrought.\\nwi Pleasure by savage man is dearly bought\\nWith fell revenge lust that defies control,\\nfci With gluttony and death. The mind untaught\\nIs a dark waste, where fiends and tempests howl m\\nAs Phoebus to the world, is Science to the soul.\\nXL VII.\\ni; And Reason now through number, time, and space,\\nDarts the keen lustre of her serious eye,\\nAnd learns from facts compared the laws to trace,\\nWhose long progression leads to Deity.\\nCan mortal strength presume to soar so high\\nCan mortal sight, so oft bedimm d with tears,\\nSuch glory bear for, lo the shadows fly\\nFrom nature s face confusion disappears,\\nAnd order charms the eyes, and harmony the ears.\\nXL VIII.\\ni; In the deep windings of the grove, no more\\nThe hag obscene and grisly phantom dwell\\nNor in the fall of mountain-stream, or roar\\nOf winds, is heard the angry spirit s yell\\n6 No wizard mutters the tremendous spell,\\nNor sinks convulsive in prophetic swoon\\nNor bids the noise of drums and trumpets swell,\\nTo ease of fancied pangs the laboring moon,\\nOr chase the shade that blots the blazing orb of noon.\\nXLIX.\\nMany a long-lingering year, in lonely isle,\\nStunn d with th eternal turbulence of wfcves,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "80 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nLo, with dim eyes that never learn d to smile,\\nAnd trembling hands, the famish d native craves\\nOf Heaven his wretched fare shivering in caves,\\n;t Or scorclrd on rocks, he pines from day to day*;\\n64 But Science gives the word and lo, he braves\\n4 The surge and tempest, lighted by her ray,\\nAnd to a happier land wafts merrily away.\\nL.\\nAnd ev n where Nature loads the teeming plain\\nWith the full pomp of vegetable store,\\nHer bounty, unimproved, is deadly bane\\n4i Dark woods and rankling wilds, from shore to shore,\\nStretch their enormous gloom; which to explore\\nEv n Fancy trembles, in her sprightliest mood\\nFor there, each eyeball gleams with lust of gore,\\n4 Nestles each murderous and each monstrous brood,\\nPlague lurks in every shade, and steams from every\\nflood.\\nLI.\\nTwas from Philosophy man learn d to tame\\n4; The soil by plenty to intemperance fed.\\nLo from the echoing axe, and thundering flame,\\nPoison and plague and yielding rage are fled.\\nThe waters, bursting from their slimy bed,\\nBring health and melody to every vale\\nAnd, from the breezy main and mountain s head,\\nCeres and Flora, to the sunny dale,\\n4; To fan their glowing charms, invite the fluttering\\ngale.\\nLII.\\nu What dire necessities on every hand\\nOur art, our strength, our fortitude, require", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. %1\\nOf Foes intestine what a numerous band\\nAgainst this little throb of life conspire\\nYet Science can elude their fatal ire\\nAwhile, and turn aside Death s levell d dart,\\nSoothe the sharp pang, allay the fever s fire,\\nAnd brace the nerves once more, and cheer the\\nheart,\\nAnd yet a few soft nights and balmy days impart.\\nLIII.\\nNor less to regulate man s moral frame,\\nScience exerts her all -composing sway 5\\nFlutters thy breast with fear, or pants for fame.\\n6i Or pines, to Indolence and Spleen a prey,\\nOr Avarice, a fiend more fierce than they\\nFlee to the shades of Academus grove\\nki Where -cares molest not! discord melts away\\n6i In harmony, and the pure passions prove\\nHow sweet the words of truth breathed from the lips\\nof Love.\\nLIV.\\nWhat cannot art and industry perform,\\nWhen Science plans the progress of their toil\\nThey smile at penury, disease, and storm\\nAnd oceans from their mighty mounds recoil.\\nWhen tyrants scourge, or demagogues embroil\\nA land, or when the rabble s headlong rage\\nOrder transforms to anarchy and spoil,\\nDeep-versed in man, the philosophic sage\\nPrepares, with lenient hand, their frenzy to assuage,\\nLV.\\nTis he alone, whose comprehensive mind,\\n4i From situation, temper, soil, and clime\\nH", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "g2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nExplored, a nation s various powers can bind\\nAnd various orders, in one form sublime\\nOf polity, that, midst the wrecks of time,\\nSecure shall lift its head on high, nor fear\\nTh assault of foreign or domestic crime,\\nWhile public faith, and public love sincere,\\nAnd industry and law maintain their sway severe/\\nLVI.\\nEnraptured by the hermit s strain, the youth\\nProceeds the path of Science to explore.\\nAnd now, expanding to the beams of Truth,\\nNew energies, and charms unknown before,\\nHis mind discloses Fancy now no more\\nWantons on fickle pinion through the skies\\nBut, fixed in aim, and conscious of her power,\\nSublime from cause to cause exults to rise,\\nCreation s blended stores arranging as she flies.\\nLVII.\\nNor love of novelty alone inspires,\\nTheir laws and nice dependencies to scan\\nFor, mindful of the aids that life requires,\\nAnd of the services man owes to man,\\nHe meditates new arts on Nature s plan\\nThe cold desponding breast of Sloth to warm,\\nThe flame of Industry and Genius fan,\\nAnd Emulation s noble rage alarm,\\nAnd the long hours of toil and solitude to charm.\\nLVIII.\\nBut she, who set on fire his infant heart,\\nAnd all his dreams, and all his wanderings shared\\nAnd bless d the Muse, and her celestial art,\\nStill claim d th enthusiast s fond and first regard.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 83\\nFrom Nature s beauties variously compared\\nAnd variously combined, he learns to frame\\nThose forms of bright perfection, which the bard,\\nWhile boundless hopes and boundless views inflame,\\nEnamor d consecrates to never-dying fame.\\nLIX.\\nOf late, with cumbersome, though pompous show,\\nEdwin would oft his flowery rhyme deface,\\nThrough ardor to adorn but Nature now r\\nTo his experienced eye a modest grace\\nPresents, where ornament the second place\\nHolds, to intrinsic worth and just design\\nSubservient still. Simplicity apace\\nTempers his rage he owns her charm divine,\\nAnd clears th ambiguous phrase, and lops th un-\\nwieldy line.\\nLX.\\nFain would I sing, (much jtt unsung remains)\\nWhat sweet delirium o er his bosom stole,\\nWhen the great Shepherd of the Mantuan plains*\\nHis deep majestic melody Van roll\\nFain would I sing, what transport storm d his soul.\\nHow the red current throbb d his veins along,\\nWhen, like Pelides, bold beyond control,\\nGracefully terrible, sublimely strong,\\nHomer raised high to heaven the loud, th impetuous\\nsong.\\nLXI.\\nAnd how his lyre, though rude her first essays,\\nNow skill d to soothe, to triumph, to complain,\\nFirpl", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "84 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWarbling at will through each harmonious ma?.e,\\nWas taught to modulate the artful strain,\\nI fain would sing but ah I strive in vain.\\nSighs from a breaking heart my voice confound.,\\nWith trembling step, to join yon weeping train,\\nI haste, where gleams funereal glare around,\\nAnd, mix d with shrieks of woe, the knells of deatli\\nresound.\\nLXII.\\nAdieu, ye lays, that Fancy s flowers adorn,\\nThe soft amusement of the vacant mind\\nHe sleeps in dust, and all the Muses mourn,\\nHe, whom each virtue fired, each grace refined,\\nFriend, teacher, pattern, darling of mankind\\nHe sleeps in dust. Ah, how should I pursue\\nMy theme to heart-consuming grief resign d,\\nHere on his recent grave I fix my view,\\nAnd pour my bitter tears. Ye flowery lays, adieu\\nLXIII.\\nArt thou, my Gregory, for ever fled\\nAnd am I left to unavailing woe\\nWhen fortune s storms assail this weary head,\\nWhere cares long since have shed untimely snow,\\nAh now for comfort whither shall I go\\nNo more thy soothing voice my anguish cheers\\nThy placid eyes with smiles no longer glow,\\nMy hopes to cherish, and allay my fears.\\nTis meet that I should mourn flow forth afresh mv\\ntears.\\nThis excellent person died suddenly, on the 10th of February\\n17T3. The conclusion of the poem was written a few days nfta\\\\", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "HEAUTIE3 OF POETRY. 85\\nJJV ELEGY\\nWRITTEN IN\\nJl COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.\\nBY THOMAS GRAY.\\nTHE curfew tolls the knell of parting day,\\nThe lowing herd wind slowly o er the lea,\\nThe plowman homeward plods his weary way,\\nAnd leaves the world to darkness and to me.\\nNow fades the glimmering landscape on the sight,\\nAnd all the air a solemn stillness holds,\\nSave where the beetle wheels his drony flight,\\nAnd drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds\\nSave that, from yonder ivy -mantled tower,\\nThe moping owl does to the moon complain\\nOf such, as wandering near her secret bower,\\nMolest her ancient, solitary reign.\\nBeneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree s shade,\\nWhere heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap*\\nEach in his narrow cell for ever laid,\\nThe rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.\\nThe breezy call of incense-breathing morn,\\nThe swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,\\nThe cock s shrill clarion, or the echoing horn,\\nNo more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.\\nFor them no more the blazing hearth shall bum.\\nOr busy housewife p!y her evening care\\nH2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "86 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nNor children run to lisp their sire s return,\\nOr climb his knees the envied kiss to share.\\nOft did the harvest to their sickle yield,\\nTheir furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke m T\\nHow jocund did they drive their teams afield\\nHow bow d the woods beneath their sturdy stroke\\nLet not Ambition mock their useful toil,\\nTheir homely joys, and destiny obscure\\nXor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,\\nThe short and simple annals of the poor.\\nThe boast of heraldry, the pomp of power,\\nAnd all that beauty, all that wealth e er gave,\\nVwait alike th inevitable hour\\nThe paths of glory lead but to the grave.\\nXor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault,\\nIf memory o er their tomb no trophies raise,\\nWhere through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault,\\nThe pealing anthem swells the note of praise.\\nCan storied urn, or animated bust,\\nBack to its mansion call the fleeting breath\\nCan Honor s voice provoke the silent dust,\\nOr Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death\\nPerhaps, in this neglected spot is laid\\nSome heart once pregnant with celestial fire\\nIfands that the rod of empire might have sway d.\\nOr waked to extacy the living lyre.\\nBut Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,\\nRich with the spoils of time, did ne er unroll\\nChill penury repress d their noble rage,\\nAnd froze the genial eurrent of the soul.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 87\\nFull many a gem of purest raj serene,\\nThe dark unfathom d caves of ocean bear\\nFull many a flower is born to blush unseen,\\nAnd waste its sweetness on the desert air.\\nSome village Hampden, that with dauntless breast\\nThe little tyrant of his fields withstood\\nSome mute inglorious Milton here may rest 5\\nSome Cromwell guiltless of his country s blood.\\nTh applause of listening senates to command,\\nThe threats of pain and ruin to despise,\\nTo scatter plenty o er a smiling land,\\nAnd read their history in a nation s eyes,\\nTheir lot forbade nor circumscribed alone\\nTheir growing virtues, but their crimes confined\\nForbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,\\nAnd shut the gates of mercy on mankind\\nThe struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide,\\nTo quench the blushes of ingenuous shame,\\nOr heap the shrine of luxury and pride,\\nWith incense kindled at the Muse S flame.\\nFar from the madding crowd s ignoble strife,\\nTheir sober wishes never learn d to stray\\nAlong the cool sequester d vale of life\\nThey kept the noiseless tenor of their way.\\nYet ev n these bones from insult to protect,\\nSome frail memorial still erected nigh,\\nWith uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck d.\\nImplores the passing tribute of a sigh.\\nTheir name, their years, spelt by the unletter d Muse r\\nThe place of fame and elegy supply", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "83 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd many a holy text around she strews,\\nThat teach the rustic moralist to die.\\nFor who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey,\\nThis pleasing anxious being e er resigned,\\nLeft the warm precincts of the cheerful day,\\nNor cast one longing, lingering look behind\\nOn some fond breast the parting soul relies,\\nSome pious drops the closing eye requires\\nEv n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,\\nEv n in our ashes live their wonted fires.\\nFor thee, who, mindful of the unhonor d dead,\\nDost in these lines their artless tale relate,\\nIf chance, by lonely Contemplation led,\\nSome kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate\\nHaply some hoary -headed swain may say\\n6i Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn,\\nki Brushing with hasty steps the dews away,\\nTo meet the sun upon the upland lawn.\\nThere at the foot of yonder nodding beech\\nThat wreathes its old fantastic roots so high,\\nHis listless length at noontide would he stretch,\\nu And pore upon the brook that babbles by.\\nHard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn,\\nMuttering his wayward fancies, he would rove\\n4i Now drooping, woful, wan, like one forlorn,\\nOr crazed with care, or cross d in hopeless love.\\nOne morn I missM him on the customed hill,\\nAlong the heath, and near his favorite tree\\n;i Another came, nor yet beside the rill,\\nNor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. b9\\nThe next, with dirges due, in sad array,\\nSlow through the church -yard path we saw him borne\\nApproach and read (for thou canst read) the lay\\nGraved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.\\nTHE EPITAPH.\\nHere rests his head upon the lap of earth,\\nA youth to fortune and to fame unknown\\nFair Science frown d not on his humble birth,\\nAnd Melancholy mark d him for her own.\\nLarge was his bounty, and his soul sincere 5\\nHeaven did a recompence as largely send\\nHe gave to misery all he had, a tear\\nHe gain d from Heaven twas all he wish d) a friend.\\nNo farther seek his merits to disclose,\\nOr draw his frailties from their dread abode,\\nThere they alike in trembling hope repose)\\nThe bosom of his Father and his God.\\nODE TO ADVERSITY.\\nBY THOMAS GRAY.\\nDAUGHTER of Jove, relentless Power.\\nThou tamer of the human breast,\\nWhose iron scourge and torturing hour\\nThe bad affright, afflict the best\\nBound in thy adamantine chain.\\nThe proud arc taught to taste of pain.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "90 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd purple tyrants vainly groan,\\nWith pangs unfelt before, unpitied, and alone.\\nWhen first thy Sire to send on earth\\nVirtue, his darling child, design d,\\nTo thee he gave the heavenly birth,\\nAnd bade to form her infant mind.\\nStern, rugged nurse thy rigid lore\\nWith patience many a year she bore\\nWhat sorrow was, thou badest her know\\nAnd from her own she learn d to melt at others woe.\\nScared at thy frown terrific, fly\\nSelf-pleasing Folly s idle brood,\\nWild Laughter, Noise, and thoughtless Joy,\\nAnd leave us leisure to be good.\\nLight they disperse and with them go\\nThe summer-friend, the flattering foe 5\\nBy vain Prosperity received,\\nTo her they vow their truth, and are again believed.\\nWisdom, in sable garb array d,\\nImmersed in rapturous thought profound,\\nAnd Melancholy, silent maid,\\nWith leaden eye, that loves the ground,\\nStill on thy solemn steps attend\\nWarm Charity, the general friend,\\nWith Justice, to herself severe,\\nAnd Pity, dropping soft the sadly-pleasing tear.\\nOh, gently on thy suppliant s head,\\nDread Goddess, lay thy chastening hand\\nNot in thy Gorgon terrors clad,\\nNor circled with the vengeful band,\\n(As by the impious thou art seen)\\nWith thundering voice, and threatening mien.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 91\\nAVitli screaming Horror s funeral cry,\\nDespair, and fell Disease, and ghastly Poverty.\\nThy form benign, oh Goddess, wear\\nThy milder influence impart,\\nThy philosophic train be there,\\nTo soften, not to wound my heart.\\nThe generous spark extinct revive,\\nTeach me to love and to forgive,\\nExact my own defects to scan,\\nWhat others are to feel 5 and know myself a man.\\nFMRING TIME ANTICIPATED.\\nA FABLE.\\nBY WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.\\nI SHALL not ask Jean Jacques Rousseau^*\\nIf birds confabulate or no\\n*Tis clear that they were always able\\nTo hold discourse, at least, in fable\\nAnd ev n the child who knows no better,\\nThan to interpret by the letter\\nA story of a cock and bull,\\nMust have a most uncommon skull.\\nIt was one of the whimsical speculations of this philosopher,\\nthat all fables which ascribe reason and speech to animals should\\nbe withheld from children, as being only vehicles of deception.\\nRut what child was ever deceived by them, or can be, against the\\nevidence of his senses.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "9* BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nIt chanced then, on a winter s day,\\nBut warm and bright, and calm as Mav,\\nThe birds, conceiving- a design\\nTo forestall sweet St. Valentine,\\nIn many an orchard, copse, and grove.\\nAssembled on affairs of love,\\nAnd with much twitter and much chatter.\\nBegan to agitate the matter.\\nAt length a Bullfinch, who could boast\\nMore years and wisdom than the most,\\nEntreated, opening wide his beak,\\nA moment s liberty to speak\\nAnd, silence publicly enjoin d,\\nDeliver d briefly thus his mind.\\nMy friends be cautious how ye treat\\nThe subject upon which we meet;\\nI fear we shall have winter yet\\nA Finch, whose tongue knew no control.\\nWith golden wing and satin poll,\\nA last year s bird, who ne er had tried\\nWhat marriage means, thus pert replied.\\nMethinks the gentleman, quoth she,\\nOpposite in the apple-tree,\\nBy his good will, would keep us single\\nTil yonder heaven and earth shall mingle.\\nOr (which is likelier to befal)\\nTill death exterminate us all.\\nI marry without more ado,\\nMy dear Dick Redcap, what say you\\nDick heard, and, tweedling, ogling bridlin*\\nWmg short ro^stru^L^^", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAttested, glad, his approbation\\nOf an immediate conjugation.\\nTheir sentiments, so well express d,\\nInfluenced mightily the rest,\\nAll pair d, and each pair built a nest.\\nBut, though the birds were thus in haste,\\nThe leaves came on not quite so fast,\\nAnd destiny, that sometimes bears\\nAn aspect stern on man s affairs,\\nNot altogether smiled on theirs.\\nThe wind, of late breathed gently forth,\\nNow shifted east and east by north.\\n-Bare trees and shrubs but ill, you know,\\nCould shelter them from rain or snow\\nStepping into their nests, they paddled,\\nThemselves were chilPd, their eggs were addled\\nSoon every father bird and mother\\nGrew quarrelsome, and peck d each other,\\nParting without the least regret,\\nExcept that they had ever met,\\nAnd learn d, in future to be wiser,\\nThan to neglect a good adviser.\\nINSTRUCTION.\\nMisses the tale that I relate,\\nThis lesson seems to carry\\nChoose not alone a proper mate,\\nBut proper time to marry.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "94 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTHE SHRUBBERY.\\nWritten in a Time of Affliction.\\nBY WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.\\nOH, happy shades to me unblest 1\\nFriendly to peace, but not to me 1\\nHow ill the scene that offers rest,\\nAnd heart that cannot rest, agree\\nThis glassy stream, that spreading pine,\\nThose alders quivering to the breeze,\\nMight soothe a soul less hurt than mine,\\nAnd please, if any thing could please.\\nBut fixM, unalterable care\\nForegoes not what she feels within,\\nShows the same sadness every where,\\nAnd slights the season and the scene.\\nFor all that pleased in wood or lawn,\\nWhile peace possessed these silent bowers.\\nHer animating smile withdrawn,\\nHas lost its beauties and its powers.\\nThe saint or moralist should tread\\nThis moss-grown alley, musing, slow\\nThey seek, like me, the secret shade,\\nBut not, like me, to nourish woe\\nMe fruitful scenes, and prospects waste,\\nAlike admonish not to roam\\nThese tell me of enjoyments past,\\nAnd those of sorrows yet to come.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "BKAUTIES OF POETRY. 95\\nREPORT\\nOF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANt\\nOF THE BOOKS.\\nBY WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.\\nBETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contest arose*-\\nThe spectacles set them unhappily wrong;\\nl*he point in dispute was, as all the world knows,\\nTo which the said spectacles ought to belong.\\nSo Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause\\nWith a great deal of skill, and a wig full of learning\\nWhile chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws,\\nSo famed for his talent in nicely discerning\\nIn behalf of the Nose, it will quickly appear,\\nAnd your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find,\\nThat the Nose has had spectacles always in wear,\\nWhich amounts to possession time out of mind.\\nThen holding the spectacles up to the court\\nYour lordship observes they are made with a straddle\\nAs wide as the ridge of the Nose is 5 in short,\\nDesign d to sit close to it, just like a saddle.\\nAgain, would your lordship a moment suppose\\nTis a case that has happen d, and may be again)\\nThat the visage or countenance had not a nose\\nPray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then\\nOn the whole it appears and my argument shows,\\nWith a reasoning the court will never condemn.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "96 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThat the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose,\\nAnd the Nose was as plainly intended for them.\\nThen, shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows how)\\nHe pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes\\nBut what were his arguments few people know,\\nFor the court did not. think they were equally wise.\\nSo his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone,\\nDecisive and clear, without one if or but\\nThat, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on,\\nBy day -light or candle-light -Eyes should be shut\\nOWEN OF CARRON.\\nBY DR. LANGHORNE.\\nI.\\nON Carron s side, the primrose pale,\\nYVhy does it wear a purple hue\\nYe maidens fair of Marlivale,\\nWhy stream your eyes with pity s dew\\nJ Tis all with gentle Owen s blood,\\nThat purple grows the primrose pale\\nThat pity pours the tender flood\\nFrom each fair eye in Marlivale.\\nThe evening star sate in his eye,\\nThe sun his golden tresses gave.\\nThe north s pure morn her orient dye.\\nTo him who rests in vender grave", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "BEAtfTIES OF POETRt. 97\\nBeneath no high historic stone,\\nThough nobly born, is Owen laid,\\nStretch d on the green wood s lap alone,\\nHe sleeps beneath the waving shade.\\nThere many a flowery race hath sprung.\\nAnd fled before the mountain gale,\\nSince first his simple dirge ye sung,\\nYe maidens fair of Mar li vale I\\nYet still, when May, with fragrant feet,\\nHath wander d o er your meads of gold.\\nThat dirge I hear, so simply sweet,\\nFar echoed from each evening fold.\\nIL\\nTwa9 in the pride of William s days,\\nWhen Scotland s honors flourislrd still,\\nThat Moray s Earl, with mighty sway,\\nBore rule o er many a Highland hill.\\nAnd far for him their fruitful store\\nThe fairest plains of Carron spread,\\nIn fortune rich, in offspring poor,\\nAn only daughter crown d his bed.\\nwrite not poor. The wealth that flows,\\nIn waves of gold, round India s throne,\\nAll in her shining breast that glows,\\nTo Ellen s charms, were earth and stone-\\nFor her the youth of Scotland sigh d,\\nThe Frenchman gay, the Spaniard grave,\\nAnd smoother Italy applied,\\nAnd many an English baron brave.\\nIn vain by foreign arts assail d,\\nNo foreign loves her breast beguile,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "98 BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nAnd England s honest valor fail d,\\nPaid with a cold but courteous smile.\\n4i Ah woe to thee, young Nithisdale,\\nThat o er thy cheek those roses- stray M.\\nThy breath the violet of the vale,\\nThy voice the music of the shade\\nAh woe to thee, that Ellen s love\\nAlone to thy soft tale would yield\\nFor soon those gentle arms shall proves\\nThe conflict of a ruder field.\\nTwas thus a wayward sister spoke,\\nAnd cast a rueful glance behind,\\nAs from her dimwood glen she broke,\\nAnd mounted on the moaning wind.\\nShe spoke, and vanish d. More unmoved\\nThan Moray s rocks, when storms invest,\\nThe valiant youth by Ellen loved,\\nWith aught that fear or fate suggest.\\nFor love, methinks, hath power to raise\\nThe soul above a vulgar state\\nTh unconquer d banners he displays\\nControl our fears, and fix our fate.\\nIIL\\nTwas when, on summer s softest eve,.\\nOf clouds that wander M west away,\\nTwilight with gentle hand did weave\\nHer fairy robe of night and day\\nWhen ail the mountain gales were still,\\nAnd the wave slept against the shore,\\nAnd the sun, sunk beneath the hill,\\nLeft his last smile on LemHierinore", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 99\\nLed by those waking dreams of thought,\\nThat warm the young unpractised breast,\\nHer wonted bower sweet Ellen sought,\\nAnd Carron murmur d near, and soothed her into rest,\\nIV.\\nThere is some kind and courtly sprite,\\nThat o er the realm of fancy reigns,\\nThrows sunshine on the mask of night,\\nAnd smiles at slumber s powerless chains\\n*Tis told, and I believe the tale,\\nAt this soft hour the sprite was there,\\nAnd spread with fairer flowers the vale,\\nAnd fill d with sweeter sounds the air.\\nA bower he framed, (for he could frame\\nWhat long might weary mortal wight,\\nSwift as the lightning s rapid flame\\nDarts on the unsuspecting sight)\\nSuch bower he framed with magic hand,\\nAs well that wizard bard hath wove,\\nIn scene where fair Armida s wand\\nWaved all the witcheries of love.\\nYet was it wrought in simple show\\nNor Indian mines nor orient shores\\nHad lent their glories here to glow,\\nOr yielded here their shining stores.\\nAll round a poplar s trembling arms\\nThe wild rose wound her damask flower\\nThe woodbine lent her spicy charms,\\nThat loves to weave the lover s bower.\\nThe ash that courts the mountain air,\\nIn all her painted blooms array M,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "XQO BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThe wilding s blossom, blushing fair,\\nCombined to form the flowery shade.\\nWith thyme that loves the brown hill s breast,\\nThe cowslip s sweet reclining head,\\nThe violet of sky woven vest,\\nWas all the fairy ground bespread.\\nBut who is he, whose locks so fair\\nAdown his manly shoulders flow\\nBeside him lies the hunter s spear,\\nBeside him sleeps the warrior s bow.\\nHe bends to Ellen (gentle sprite,\\nThy sweet seductive arts forbear)\\nHe courts her arms with fond delight.\\nAnd instant vanishes in air.\\nV.\\nHast thou not found, at early dawn,\\nSome soft ideas melt away,\\nIf o er sweet vale, or flowery lawn,\\nThe sprite of dreams hath bid thee stray r\\nHast thou not some fair object seen,\\nAnd when the fleeting form was past,\\nStill on thy memory found its mein,\\nAnd felt the fond idea last\\nThou hast and oft the pictured view,\\nSeen in some vision counted vain,\\nHas struck thy wondering eye anew,\\nAnd brought the long lost dream again.\\nWith warrior-bow, with hunter s spear,\\nWith locks adown his shoulders spread,\\nYoung Nithisdale is ranging near\\nHe s ranging near yon mountain s head.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 101\\nScarce had one pale moon pass d away,\\nAnd fiil d her silver urn again,\\nWhen in the devious chase to stray,\\nAfar from all his woodland train,\\nTo Carron s banks his fate consign d,\\nAnd, all to shun the fervid hour,\\nHe sought some friendly shade to find,\\nAnd found the visionary bower.\\nVI.\\nLed by, the golden star of love,\\nSweet Ellen took her wanted way*\\nAnd in the deep defending grove\\nSought refuge from the fervid day.\\nOh who is he, whose ringlets fair\\nDisordered o er his green vest flow,\\nReclined in rest whose sunny hair\\nHalf hides the fair cheek s ardent glow\\n5 Tis he, that sprite s illusive guest,\\n(Ah me that sprites can fate control\\nThat lives still imaged on her breast,\\nThat lives still pictured in her soul.\\nAs when some gentle spirit fled\\nFrom earth to breathe elysian air,\\nAnd, in the train whom wc call dead,\\nPerceives its long loved partner there\\n.Soft, sudden pleasure rushes o er,\\nResistless, o er its airy frame,\\nTo find his future fate restore\\nThe object of its former flame\\nSo Ellen stood less power to move\\nHad he, who, bound in slumber s chain.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "102 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nSeem d, haply, o er his hills to rove.\\nAnd wind his woodland chase again.\\nShe stood, hut trembled mingled fear\\nAnd fond delight and melting love\\nSeized all her soul, she came not near,\\nShe came not near that fated grove.\\nShe strives to fly from wizard s wand\\nAs well might powerless captive fly\\nThe new cropped flower falls from her hand\\nAh fall not with that flower to die.\\nVII.\\nJrlast thou not seen some azure gleam\\nSmile in the morning s orient eye,\\nAnd skirt the reddening clouds soft beam.\\nWhat time the sun was hasting nigli\\nThou hast and thou canst fancy well,\\nAs any Muse that meets thine ear,\\nThe soul-set eye of Nithisdale,\\nWhen, waked, it fix d on Ellen near.\\nSilent they gazed that silence broke,\\nHail, Goddess of these groves, he cried,\\nii let me wear thy gentle yoke,\\nO let me in thy service bide.\\nFor thee I ll climb the mountain steep.\\nUnwearied chase the destined prey,\\nFor thee I ll pierce the wild wood deep,\\nAnd part the sprayg that vex thy way.\\nFor thee O stranger, cease, she said,\\nAnd swift away, like Daphne, flew\\nBut Daphne s flight was not delay d\\nBy aught that to her bosom grew.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 10\\nfwas Atalanta s golden fruit,\\nThe fond idea that confined\\nFair Ellen s steps, and bless d his suit,\\nWho was not far, not far behind.\\nVIII.\\nO Love within those golden vales,\\nThose genial airs where thou wast born.\\nWhere Nature, listening thy soft tales,\\nLeans on the rosy breast of morn\\nWhere the sweet smiles, the Graces dvvelJ v\\nAnd tender sighs the heart emove,\\nIn silent eloquence to tell\\nThy tale, soul-subduing Love\\nAh wherefore should grim Rage be nigh.\\nAnd dark Distrust with changeful face\\nAnd Jealousy s reverted eye,\\nBe near thy fair, thy favor d place\\nIX.\\nEarl Barnard was of high degree,\\nAnd lord of many a Lowland hind,\\nAnd long for Ellen love had he,\\nHad love, but not of gentle kind.\\nFrom Moray s halls her absent hour\\nHe watch d with all a miser s care\\nThe wide domain, the princely dower.\\nMade Ellen more than Ellen fair.\\nAh wretch to think the liberal soul\\nMay thus with fair affection part\\nThough Lothian s vales thy sway control,\\nKnow, Lothian is not worth me heart.\\nStudious he marks her aSseut hour,\\nAnd winding far where Carron flows,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "104 BEAUTIES OP POETHY.\\nSudden he sees the fated bower,\\nAnd red rage on his dark brow glows.\\nFor who is he tis Nithisdale\\nAnd that fair form with arm reclined\\nOn his tis Ellen of the vale,\\nTis she (0 powers of vengeance kind.\\nShould he that vengeance swift pursue\\nNo that would all his hopes destroy\\nMoray would vanish from his view\\nAnd rob him of a miser s joy.\\nUnseen to Moray s halls he hies\\nHe calls his slaves, his ruffian band,\\nAnd haste to yonder groves, he cries,\\nAnd ambush d lie by Carron s strand.\\nWhat time ye mark, from bower or glen*\\nA gentle lady take her way,\\nTo distance due, and far from ken,\\nAllow her length of time to stray.\\nThen ransack straight that range of groves;\\nWith hunter s spear, and vest of green,\\nIf chance a rosy stripling roves\\nYe well can aim your arrows keen.\\nAnd now the ruffian slaves are nigh,\\nAnd Ellen takes her homeward way,\\nThough stay d by many a tender sigh,\\nShe can no longer, longer stay.\\nPensive, against yon poplar pale,\\nThe lover leans his gentle heart,\\nRevolving many a tender tale,\\nAnd wondering still how they could part.\\nThree arrows pierced the desert air;\\nEre yet his tender dreams depart", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. lto\\nAnd one struck deep his forehead fair,\\nAnd one went through his gentle heart.\\nlove s waking dream is lost in sleep\\nHe lies beneath yon poplar pale\\nAh could we marvel ye should weep,\\nYe maidens fair of Marlivale\\nX.\\nWhen all the mountain gales were still,\\nAnd the wave slept against the shore,\\nAnd the sun, sunk beneath the hill,\\nLeft his last smile on Lemmermore\\nSweet Ellen takes her wonted way V\\nAlong the fairy -featured vale, 4\\nBright o er his wave does Carron play,\\nAnd soon she ll meet her Nithisdale.\\nShe ll meet him soon for at her sight\\nSwift as the mountain deer he sped\\nThe evening shades will sink in night\\nWhere art thou, loitering lover, fled\\nOh she will chide thy trifling stay\\nEv n hoav the soft reproach she frames\\nCan lovers brook such long delay\\nLovers that boast of ardent flames\\nlie comes not weary witli tlie chase,\\nSoft slumber o er his eyelids throws\\nHer veil we ll steal one dear embrace^\\nWe ll gently steal on his repose.\\nThis is the bower we ll softly tread\\nHe sleeps beneath yon poplar pale-\\nLover, if e er thy heart has bled,\\nThy heart will far forego my tale\\nK", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "106 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXI.\\nEllen is not in princely bower,\\nShe s not in Moray s splendid train\\nTheir mistress dear, at midnight hour,\\nHer weeping maidens seek in vain.\\nHer pillow swells not deep with down,\\nFor her no balms their sweets exhale\\nHer limbs are on the pale turf thrown,\\nPress d by her lovely cheek as pale.\\nOn that fair cheek, that flowing hair,\\nThat broom its yellow leaf hath shed.\\nAnd the chili mountain s early air\\nBlows wildly o er her beauteous head.\\nAs the soft star of orient day,\\nWhen clouds involve his rosy light,\\nDarts through the gloom a transient ray,\\nAnd leaves the world once more to night\\nReturning life illumes her eye,\\nAnd slow its languid orb unfolds\\nWhat are those bloody arrows nigh\\nSure bloody arrows she beholds\\nWhat was the form so ghastly pale,\\nThat low beneath the poplar lay\\nTwas some poor youth\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Ah Nithisdale ;J\\nShe said, and silent sunk away.\\nXII.\\nThe morn is on the mountains spread,\\nThe woodlark trills his liquid strain\\nCan morn s sweet music raise the dead\\nGive the set eye its soul again", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 107\\nA shepherd of that gentler mind,\\nWhich nature not profusely yields,\\nSeeks in these lonely shades to find\\nSome wanderer from his little fields.\\nAghast he stands and simple fear\\nO er all his paly visage glides\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nfc Ah me what means this misery here\\nWhat fate this lady fair betides\\nHe bears her to his friendly home,\\nWhen life, he finds, has but retired\\nWith haste he frames the lover s tomb,\\nFor his is quite, is quite expired\\nXIII.\\nhide me in thy humble bower,\\nReturning late to life, she said 5\\nf* I ll bind thy crook with many a flower 5\\nWith many a rosy wreath thy head.\\nGood shepherd, haste to yonder grove,\\nAnd if my love asleep is laid,\\nOh wake him not 5 but softly move\\nSome pillow to that gentle head.\\nSure thou wilt know him, shepherd swain,\\nThou know st the sun rise o er the sea\\nBut, oh no lamb in all thy train\\nWas e er so mild, so mild as he.\\nHis head is on the wood -moss laid\\nI did not wake his slumber deep\\nSweet sings the redbreast o er the shade\\nWhy, gentle lady, Mould you weep\\nAs flowers that fade in burning day,\\nAt evening find the dew-drop dear*", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "108 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nBut fiercer feel the noontide ray,\\nWhen soften d by the nightly tear\\nReturning in the flowing tear,\\nThis lovely flower, more sweet than they.\\nFound her fair soul, and wandering near,\\nThe stranger, Reason, cross d her way.\\nFound her fair soul Ah so to find,\\nWas but more dreadful grief to know\\nAh sure the privilege of mind\\nCannot be worth the wish of woe,\\nXIV.\\nOn melancholy s silent urn\\nA softer shade of sorrow falls,\\nBut Ellen can no more return,\\nNo more return to Moray s halls.\\nBeneath the low and lonely shade,\\nThe slow consuming hour she ll weep,\\nTill nature seeks her last-left aid,\\nIn the sad, sombrous arms of sleep.\\nThese jewels, all unmeet for me,\\nShalt thou, she said, good shepherd, take\\na These gems will purchase gold for thee,\\nAnd these be thine for Ellen s sake.\\nSo fail thou not, at eve and morn,\\nThe rosemary s pale bough to bring\\nThou know st where I was found forlorn\\nWhere thou hast heard the redbreast sing.\\nHeedful I ll tend thy flocks the while,\\nOr aid thy shepherdess s care,\\nFor I will share her humble toil,\\nAnd I her friendly roof will share.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 109\\nXV.\\nAnd now two longsome years are pass d\\nIn luxury of lonely pain\\nThe lovely mourner, found at last,\\nTo Moray s halls is borne, again.\\nYet has she left one object dear,\\nThat wears Love s sunny eye of joy-\\nIs Nithisdale reviving here\\nOr is it but a shepherd s boy\\nBy Carron s side a shepherd s boy,\\nHe binds his vale -flowers with the reed 3\\nHe wears Love s sunny eye of joy,\\nAnd birth he little seems to heed.\\nXVI.\\nBut ah no more his infant sleep\\nCloses beneath a mother s smile,\\nWho only when it closed would weep.\\nAnd yield to tender woe the while.\\nNo more, with fond attention dear,\\nShe seeks th unspoken wish to find\\nNo more shall she, with pleasure s tear,\\nSee the soul waxing into mind.\\nXVII.\\nDoes Nature bear a tyrant s breast\\nIs she the friend of stern Control\\nWears she the despot s purple vest\\nOr fetters she the free-born soul\\nWhere, worst of tyrants is thy claim\\nIn chains thy children s breasts to bind I\\nGavest thou the Promethean flame\\nThe incommunicable mind", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "3 10 BEAUTIES OF POETS*\\nThy offspring are great Nature s free.\\nAnd of her fair dominion heirs\\nEach privilege she gives to thee\\nKnow, that each privilege is theirs.\\nThey have thy feature, wear thine eye.\\nPerhaps some feelings of thy heart\\nAnd wilt thou their loved hearts deny\\nTo act their fajr, their proper part\\nXVIII.\\nThe lord of Lothian s fertile vale.\\nIll-fated Ellen, claims thy hand\\nThou know st not that thy Nithisdale\\nWas low laid by his ruffian-band.\\nAnd Moray, with unfather d eyes\\nFix d on fair Lothian s fertile dale,\\nAttends his human sacrifice,\\nWithout the Grecian painter s veil.\\nO married love thy bard shall own,\\nWhere two congenial souls unite,\\nXiiy golden chain s inlaid with down,\\nThy lamp s with heaven s own splendor brighr\\nBut if no radiant star of love,\\nO Hymen smile on thy fair rite,\\nThy chain a wretched weight shall prove,\\nThy lamp a sad sepulchral light.\\nXIX.\\nAnd now has Time s slow wandering wing\\nBorne many a year unmark d with speed-\\nWhere is the boy by Carron s spring,\\nWho bound his vale-flowers with the reed", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Hi\\nAii me those flowers he binds no more\\nNo early charm returns again\\nThe parent, Nature, keeps in store\\nHer best joys for her little train.\\nNo longer heed the sun-beam bright\\nThat plays on Carron s breast he can,\\nReason has lent her quiver d light,\\nAnd shewn the chequer d field of man,\\nXX.\\nAs the first human heir of earth\\nWith pensive eye himself survey M,\\nAnd, all unconscious of his birth,\\nSate thoughtful oft in Eden s shade\\nIn pensive thought so Owen stray M\\nWild Carron s lonely woods among,\\nAnd once, within their greenest glade,\\nHe fondly framed this simple song\\nXXI.\\nWhy is this crook adorn d with gold\\nWhy am I tales of ladies told\\nWhy does no labor me employ,\\nIf I am but a shepherd s boy\\nA silken vest like mine so green,\\nIn shepherd s hut I have not seen\\nWhy should I in such vesture joy,\\nIf I am but a shepherd s boy\\nI know it is no shepherd s art\\nHis written meaning to impart\\nThey teach me, sure, an idle toy*,\\nIf I am but a shepherd s boy.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "U2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThis bracelet bright that binds my arm\\nIt could not come from shepherds farm\\nIt only would that arm annoy,\\nIf I were but a shepherd s boy.\\nAnd, thou silent picture fair,\\nThat lovest to smile upon me there\\nO say, and fill my heart with joy,\\nThat I am not a shepherd s boy.\\nXXII.\\nAh lovely youth thy tender lay\\nMay not thy gentle life prolong\\nSeest thou yon nightingale a prey,\\nThe fierce hawk hovering o er his song\\nHis little heart is large with love\\nHe sweetly hails his evening star,\\nAnd fate s more pointed arrows move*\\nInsidious from his eye afar.\\nXXIII.\\nThe shepherdess, whose kindly care\\nHad watch d o er Owen s infant breath,\\nMust now their silent mansions share,\\nWhom time leads calmly down to death.\\ntell me, parent, if thou art,\\nWhat is this lovely picture dear\\nWhy wounds its mournful eye my heart,\\nWhy flows from mine th unbidden tear\\nAh youth to leave thee loth am I,\\nThough I be not thy parent dear\\nAnd would st thou wish, or ere I die,\\nThe story of thy birth to hear r", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 113\\nBut it will make thee much he wail,\\nAnd it will make thy fair eye swell 5\\nShe said, and told the woesome tale,\\nAs sooth as shepherdess might tell.\\nXXIV.\\nThe heart, that sorrow doom d to share.\\nHas worn the frequent seal of woe,\\nIts sad impressions learns to bear,\\nAnd finds full oft its ruin slow.\\nBut when that seal is first impress d,\\nWhen the young heart its pain shall try,\\nFor the soft, yielding, trembling breast.\\nOft seems the startled soul to fly.\\nYet fled not Owen s wild amaze\\nIn paleness clothed, and lifted hands,\\nAnd horror s dread, unmeaning gaze,\\nMark the poor statue, as it stands.\\nThe simple guardian of his life\\nLook d wistful for the tear to glide,\\nBut when she saw his tearless strife,\\nSilent, she lent him one and died.\\nXXV.\\nNo, I am not a shepherd s boy,\\nAwaking from his dream, he said,\\nAh, where is now the promised joy\\nOf this for ever, ever fled\\npicture dear for her loved sake\\nHow fondly could my heart bewail\\nMy friendly shepherdess; O wake,\\nAnd -tell me more of this sad tale.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "114 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nO tell me more of this sad tale\\nNo; thou enjoy thy gentle sleep\\nAnd I will go to Lothian s vale,\\nAnd more than all her waters weep.\\nXXVI.\\nOwen to Lothian s vale is fled\\nEarl Barnard s lofty towers appear\\nart thou there, the full heart said,\\nO art thou there, my parent dear r\\nYes, she is there From idle state\\nOft has she stolen her hour to weep\\nThink how she by thy cradle sate,\\nAnd how she fondly saw thee sleep.\\nNow tries his trembling hand to frame\\nFull many a tender line of love\\nAnd still he blots the parent s name,\\nFor that, he fears, might fatal prove.\\nXXVII.\\nO er a fair fountain s smiling side,\\nReclined a dim tower clad with moss,\\nWhere every bird was wont to bide,\\nThat languish d for his partner s loss.\\nThis scene he chose, this scene assign d\\nA parent s first embrace to wait,\\nAnd many a soft fear fill d his mind,\\nAnxious for his fond letter s fate.\\nThe hand that bore those lines of love,\\nThe well informing bracelet bore\\nAh J may they not unprosperous prove\\nAh safely pass yon dangerous door", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETUY. 115\\nXXVIII.\\nShe comes not can she then delay\\nCried the fair youth, and dropp d a tear\\nWhatever filial love could say,\\nTo her I said, and call d her dear.\\nShe comes\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Oh No encircled round,\\nTis some rude chief, with many a spear\\nMy hapless tale that Earl has found\\nAh me my heart for her I fear.\\nHis tender tale that Earl had read,\\nOr ere it reached his lady s eye,\\nHis dark brow wears a cloud of red,\\nIn rage he deems a rival nigh.\\nTis o er Those locks that waved in gold,\\nThat waved adown those cheeks so fair,\\nWreathed in the gloomy tyrant s hold,\\nHang from the sever d head in air.\\nThat streaming head he joys to bear\\nIn horrid guise to Lothian s halls;\\nBids Ins grim ruffians place it there,\\nErect upon the frowning walls.\\nThe fatal tokens forth he drew\\nKnow st thou these Ellen of the vale\\nThe pictured bracelet soon she knew,\\nAnd soon her lovely cheek grew pale.\\nThe trembling victim straight he led,\\nEre yet her soul s first fear was o er\\nHe pointed to the ghastly head\\nShe saw and sunk, to rise no more", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "116 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nJEMMY DAWSON.\\nBY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ.\\nCaptain James Dawsox, the amiable and unfortunate subject of\\nthese beautiful stanzas, was one of the eight officers belonging t\\nthe Manchester regiment of volunteers, in the service of the Young-\\nChevalier, who were hanged, drawn, and quartered, on Kenning-\\nton Common, in the year 1749. And this ballad, written about\\nthe time, was founded on a remarkable circumstance which actu-\\nally happened at his execution.\\nCOME listen to my mournful tale,\\nYe tender hearts, and lovers dear.\\nNor will you scorn to heave a sigh,\\nNor will you blush to shed a tear.\\nAnd thou, dear Kitty, peerless maid,\\nDo thou a pensive ear incline\\nFor thou canst weep at every woe,\\nAnd pity every plaint but mine.\\nYoung Dawson was a gallant youth,\\nA brighter never trod the plain 5\\nAnd well he loved one charming maid,\\nAnd dearly was he loved again.\\nOne tender maid she loved him dear,\\nOf gentle blood the damsel came,\\nA no faultless was her beauteous form,\\nAnd spotless was her virgin fame.\\nBut curse on party s hateful strife,\\nThat led the favor d youth astray,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. A 17\\nThe day the rebel clans appeared\\nO had he never seen that day\\nTheir colors and their sash he wore.\\nAnd in the fatal dress was found 5\\nAnd now he must that death endure,\\nWhich gives the brave the keenest wound.\\nHow pale was then his true-love s cheek,\\nWhen Jemmy s sentence reach d her ear\\nFor never yet did Alpine snows\\nSo pale, nor yet so chill appear.\\nWith faltering voice she weeping said,\\nO Dawson, monarch of my heart,\\nThink not thy death shall end our loves,\\nFor thou and I will never part.\\nYet might sweet mercy find a place,\\nAnd bring relief to Jemmy s woes,\\nI 0, George, without a prayer for thee\\nMy orisons should never close.\\ng The gracious prince that gives him life,\\nWould crown a never-dying flame,\\nAnd every tender babe I bore\\nShould learn to lisp the giver s name.\\nBut though, dear youth, thou should st be draggM\\nTo yonder ignominious tree,\\nI Thou shalt not want a faithful friend\\n4; To share thy bitter fate with thee.\\nJ then her mourning coach was call d.\\nThe sledge moved slowly on before\\nThough borne in a triumphal car.\\nShe had not loved her favorite more,\\nL", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "118 BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nShe follow d him, prepared to view\\nThe terrible behests of law\\nAnd the last scene of Jemmy s woes\\nWith calm and stedfast eye she saw.\\nDistorted was that blooming face,\\nWhich she had fondly loved so long;\\nAnd stifled was that tuneful breath,\\nWhich in her praise had sweetly sung\\nAnd sever d was that beauteous neck,\\nRound which her arms had fondly closed\\nAnd mangled was that beauteous breast,\\nOn which her love-sick head reposed\\nAnd ravish d was that constant heart,\\nShe did to every heart prefer\\nFor though it could its king forget,\\nTwas true and loyal still to her.\\nAmid those unrelenting flames\\nShe bore this constant heart to see\\nBut when twas moulder d into dust,\\nNow, now, she cried, I follow thcc.\\nMy death, my death alone can show\\nThe pure and lasting love I bore\\nAccept, O Heaven, of woes like our9,\\nAnd let us, let us weep no more.\\nThe dismal scene was o er and past,\\nThe lover s mournful hearse retired\\nThe maid drew back her languid head,\\nAnd, sighing forth his name, expired.\\nThough justice ever must prevail,\\nThe tear my Kitty sheds is due\\nFor seldom shall she hear a tale\\nSo sad, so tender, and so true.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 119\\nA PASTORAL BALLAD,\\nIN FOU PARTS*\\nBY WILLIAM SHENSTONE, ESQ.\\nJirbusta hv/miksquemynca* ViRG\\nI. ABSENCE.\\nI.\\nYE shepherds so cheerful and gay,\\nWhose flocks never carelessly roam\\nShould Corydon s happen to stray,\\nOh call the poor wanderers home.\\nAllow me to muse and to sigh,\\nNor talk of the change that ye find 5\\nNone once was so watchful as I\\nI have left my dear Phyllis behind.\\nII.\\nNow I know what it is to have strove\\nWith the torture of doubt and desire 5\\nWhat it is to admire and to love,\\nAnd to leave her we love and admire.\\nAh, lead forth my flock in the morn,\\nAnd the damps of each evening repel\\nAlas I am faint and forlorn\\nI have bade my dear Phyllis fare we!.\\nIII.\\nSince Phyllis vouchsafed me a look,\\nI never once dream d of my vine\\nMay I lose both my pipe and my crook;\\nIf I knew of a kid that was mine.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "120 BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nI prized every hour that went by,\\nBeyond all that pleased me before\\nBut now they are past, and I sigh\\nAnd I grieve that I prized them no more,\\nIV.\\nBut why do I languish in vain\\nWhy wander thus pensively here\\nOh why did I come from the plain,\\nWhere I fed on the smiles of my dear\\nThey tell me, my favorite maid,\\nThe pride of that valley, is flown\\nAlas where with her I have stray d,\\nI could wander, with pleasure, alone.\\nV.\\nWhen forced the fair nymph to forego,\\nWhat anguish I felt at my heart\\nVet I thought but it might not be so\\nTwas with pain that she saw me depart..\\nShe gazed, as I slowly withdrew j\\nMy path I could hardly discern j\\nSo sweetly she bade me adieu,\\nI thought that she bade me return.\\nVI.\\nThe pilgrim that journeys all day\\nTo visit some far distant shrine,\\nIf he bear but a relique away,\\nIs happy, nor heard to repine.\\nThus widely removed from the fair,\\nWhere my vows, my devotion, I owe.\\nSoft hope is the relique I bear,\\nAnd my solace wherever I go.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 121\\nII. HOPE.\\nI.\\nMy banks they are furnish d with bees,\\nWhose murmur invites one to sleep\\nMy grottos are shaded with trees,\\nAnd my hills are white over with sheep.\\nI seldom have met with a loss,\\nSuch health do my fountains bestow 5\\nMy fountains are border d with moss,\\nWhere the harebells and violets grow.\\nII.\\nNot a pine in my grove is there seen,\\nBut with tendrils of woodbine is bound\\nNot a beech s more beautiful green,\\nBut a sweet-briar twines it around.\\nNot my fields, in the prime of the year,\\nMore charms than my cattle unfold\\nNot a brook that is limpid and clear,\\nBut it glitters with fishes of gold.\\nIII.\\nOne would think she might like to retire\\nTo the bower I have labor d to rear 5\\nNot a shrub that I heard her admire,\\nBut I hasted and planted it there.\\nO how sudden the jessamin strove\\nWith the lilac to render it gay\\nAlready it calls for my love,\\nTo prune the wild branches away.\\nIV.\\nFrom the plains, from the woodlands and groves,\\nWhat strains of wild melody flow\\nHow the nightingales warble their loves\\nFrom thickets of roses that blow\\nJL2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "1M BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd when her bright form shall appear,\\nEach bird shall harmoniously join\\nIn a concert so soft and so clear,\\nAs she may not be fond to resign.\\n1 have found out a gift for my fair\\nI have found where the wood-pigeons breed\\nBut let me that plunder forbear,\\nShe will say twas a barbarous deed.\\nFor he ne er could be true, she averr d,\\nWho could rob a poor bird of its young\\nAnd I loved her the more, when I heard\\nSuch tenderness fall from her tongue.\\nVI.\\nI have heard her with sweetness unfold.\\nHow that pity was due to a dove 5\\nThat it ever attended the bold,\\nAnd she call d it the sister of love.\\nBut her words such a pleasure cV^ivey,\\nSo much I her accents adore,\\nLet her speak, and whatever she say,\\nMethinks I should love her the more.\\nVIL\\nCan a bosom so gentle remain\\nUnmoved, when her Corydon sighs\\nWill a nymph that is fond of the plain,\\nThese plains and this valley despise\\nDear regions of silence and shade\\nSoft scenes of contentment and ease\\nWhere I could have pleasingly stray d,\\nIf aught, in her absence, could please.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nVIII.\\nBut where does my Phyllida stray\\nAnd where are her grots and her bowers\\nAre the groves and the valleys as gay,\\nAnd the shepherds as gentle as ours\\nThe groves may perhaps be as fair,\\nAnd the face of the valleys as fine\\nThe swains may in manners compare,\\nBut their love is not equal to mine.\\nIII. SOLICITUDE.\\nI.\\nWhy will you my passion reprove\\nWhy term it a folly to grieve\\nEre I show you the charms of my love.\\nShe is fairer than you can believe\\nWith her mien she enamors the brave\\nWith her wit she engages the free\\nWith her modesty pleases the grave\\nShe is every way pleasing to me.\\nII.\\nyou that have been of her train,\\nCome and join in my amorous lays\\n1 could lay down my life for the swain,\\nThat will sing but a song in her praise.\\nWhen he sings, may the nymphs of the town\\nCome trooping, and listen the while\\nNay, on him let not Phyllida frown\\nBut I cannot allow her to smile.\\nIII.\\nFor when Paridel tries, in the dance.\\nAnv favor with Phyllis to find;", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "124 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nO how, with one trivial glance,\\nMight she ruin the peace of my mind\\nIn ringlets he dresses his hair,\\nAnd his crook is bestudded around\\nAnd his pipe oh, may Phyllis beware\\nOf a magic there is in the sound.\\nIV.\\nTis his with mock passion to glow\\nTis his, in smooth tales, to unfold,\\nHow her face is as bright as the snow,\\nAnd her bosom, be sure, is as cold\\nHow the nightingales labor the strain,\\nWith the notes of his charmer to vie 5\\nHow they vary their accents in vain,\\nRepine at her triumphs, and die.\\nV.\\nTo the grove or the garden he strays,\\nAnd pillages every sweet 5\\nThen, suiting the wreath to his lays,\\nHe throws it at Phyllis s feet.\\niC Phyllis, he whispers, more fair,\\nMore sweet than the jessamin s flower\\nWhat are pinks, in a morn, to compare\\nWhat is eglantine, after a shower\\nVI.\\n{i Then the lily no longer is white 5\\nThen the rose is deprived of its bloom\\nThen the violets die with despite,\\nAnd the woodbines give up their perfume.\\nThus glide the soft numbers along,\\nAnd he fancies no shepherd his peer 5\\n\u00e2\u0080\u0094Yet I never should envy the song,\\nWere not Phyllis to lend it an ear.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, n5\\nVII.\\nLet his crook be with h jacinths bound,\\nSo Phyllis the trophy despise\\nLet his forehead with laurels be crown d,\\nSo they shine not in Phyllis s eyes.\\nThe language that flows from the heart.\\nIs a stranger to Paridel s tongue\\nYet may she beware of his art,\\nOr sure I must envy the song.\\nIV. DISAPPOINTMENT.\\nI.\\nYe shepherds, give ear to my lay,\\nAnd take no more heed of my sheep\\nThey have nothing to do, but to stray\\nI have nothing to do, but to weep.\\nYet do not my folly reprove\\nShe was fair and my passion begun\\nShe smiled and I could not but love 5\\nShe is faithless and I am undone.\\nII.\\nPerhaps I was void of all thought\\nPerhaps it was plain to foresee\\nThat a nymph so complete would be sought\\nBy a swain more engaging than me.\\nAll love every hope can inspire\\nIt banishes wisdom the while\\nAnd the lip of the nymph we admire\\nSeems for ever adorn d with a smile.\\nIII.\\nShe is faithless, and I am undone\\nYe that witness the woes I endure,", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "26 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nLet reason instruct you to shun\\nWhat it cannot instruct you to cure\\nBeware how ye loiter in vain,\\nAmid nymphs of an higher degree\\nIt is not for me to explain\\nHow fair, and how fickle they be.\\nIV.\\nAlas from the day that we met,\\nWhat hope of an end to my woes\\nWhen I cannot endure to forget\\nThe glance that undid my repose.\\nYet time may diminish the pain\\nThe flower, and the shrub, and the tree,\\nWhich I rear d for her pleasure in vain,\\nIn time may have comfort for me.\\nV.\\nThe sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,\\nThe sound of a murmuring stream,\\nThe peace which from solitude flows,\\nHenceforth shall be Cory don s theme.\\nHigh transports are shown to the sight,\\nBut we are not to find them our own\\nFate never bestow d such delight,\\nAs I with my Phyllis had known.\\nVI.\\nye woods, spread your branches apace 5\\nTo your deepest recesses I fly\\n1 would hide with the beasts of the chase\\nI would vanish from every eye.\\nYet my reed shall resound through the grove.\\nWith the same sad complaint it begun\\nHow she smiled, and I could not but love 5\\nWas faithless, and I am undone", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. \\\\%7\\nAN ODE.\\nBY JOSEPH ADDISON, ESQ.\\nTHE spacious firmament on high,\\nWith all the blue ethereal sky,\\nAnd spangled heavens, a shining frame,\\nTheir great Original proclaim.\\nTV unwearied sun, from day to day,\\nDoes his Creator s power display\\nAnd publishes to every land\\nThe work of an Almighty hand.\\nSoon as the evening shades prevail,\\nThe moon takes up the wondrous tale\\nAnd nightly, to the listening earth,\\nRepeats the story of her birth\\nWhilst all the stars that round her burn,\\nAnd all the planets, in their turn,\\nConfirm the tidings as they roll,\\nAnd spread the truth from pole to pole.\\nWhat though, in solemn silence, all\\nMove round the dark terrestrial ball\\nWhat though no real voice nor sound\\nOn this our earthly globe is found\\nIn Reason s ear, they all rejoice,\\nAnd utter forth a glorious voice\\nFor ever singing as they shine,\\nThe hand that made us is divine.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "1\u00c2\u00a38 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nA NIGHT PIECE ON DEATH.\\nBY DR. THOMAS PARNELJ,.\\nBY the blue taper s trembling light,\\nNo more I waste the wakeful night,\\nIntent with endless view to pore\\nThe schoolmen and the sages o er\\nTheir books from wisdom widely stray,\\nOr point, at best, the longest way.\\nI ll seek a readier path, and go\\nWhere wisdom s surely taught below.\\nHow deep yon azure dies the sky\\nWhere orbs of gold unnumber d lie\\nWhile through their ranks, in silver pride,\\nThe nether crescent seems to glide.\\nThe slumbering breeze forgets to breathe,\\nThe lake is smooth and clear beneath,\\nWhere once again the spangled show\\nDescends to meet our eyes below.\\nThe grounds which on the right aspire,\\nIn dimness from the view retire\\nThe left presents a place of graves,\\nWhose wall the silent water laves.\\nThat steeple guides thy doubtful sight\\nAmong the livid gleams of night.\\nThere pass with melancholy state,\\nBy all the solemn heaps of fate,\\nAnd think, as softly-sad you tread,\\nAbove the venerable dead,\\nTime was, like thee they life possess d,\\nAnd time shall be that thou shalt rest.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 129\\nThose graves, with bending osiers bound,\\nThat nameless heave the crumbled ground,\\nQuick to the glancing thought disclose\\nWhere toil and poverty repose.\\nThe flat smooth stones that bear a name.,\\nThe chisseFs slender help to fame,\\n(Which, ere our set of friends decay,\\nTheir frequent steps may wear away)\\nA middle race of mortals own,\\nMen half ambitious, all unknown.\\nThe marble tombs that rise on high,\\nWhose dead in vaulted arches lie,\\nWhose pillars swell with sculptured stones.\\nArms, angels, epitaphs, and bones,\\nThese (all the poor remains of state)\\nAdorn the rich, or praise the great;\\nWho, though on earth in fame they live,\\nAre senseless of the fame they give.\\nHa while I gaze, pale Cynthia fades,\\nThe bursting earth unveils the shades\\nAll slow, and wan, and wrapp d with shrouds,\\nThey rise in visionary crowds,\\nAnd all with sober accent cry,\\nThink, mortal, what it is to die.\\nNow from yon black and funeral yew,\\nThat bathes the charnel house with dew,\\nMethinks I hear a voice begin\\n(Ye ravens, cease your croaking din,\\nYe tolling clocks, no time resound\\nO er the long lake and midnight ground)\\nIt sends a peal of hollow groans,\\nThus speaking from among the bones\\nM", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "130 BEAUTIES OF POETRV.\\nWhen men my scythe and darts supply,\\nHow great a king of fears am I\\nThey view me like the last of things,\\nThey make, and then they dread, my stings.\\nFools if you less provoked your fears,\\nNo more my spectre form appears.\\nDeath s but a path that must be trod,\\nIf man would ever pass to God\\nA port of calms, a state of ease,\\nFrom the rough rage of swelling seas.\\nWhy then thy flowing sable stoles,\\nDeep-pendent cypress, mourning poles\\nX.oose scarfs to fall athwart thy weeds,\\nX\u00c2\u00abong palls, drawn herses, cover d steeds.\\nAnd plumes of black, that as they tread,\\nNod o er the scutcheons of the dead\\nNor can the parted body know,\\nNor wants the soul these forms of woe\\nAs men who long in prison dwell,\\nWith lamps that glimmer round the cell,\\nWhene er their suffering years are run,\\nSpring forth to greet the glittering sun\\nSuch joy, though far transcending sense,\\nHave pious souls at parting hence.\\nOn earth, and in the body placed,\\nA few, and evil years they waste\\nBut when their cares are cast aside,\\nSee the glad scene unfolding wide,\\nClap the glad wing and tower away;\\nAnd mingle with the blaze of day.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. IS1\\nA HYMN TO CONTENTMENT.\\nBY DR. THOMAS PARNELL.\\nLOVELY, lasting peace of mind\\nSweet delight of human kind\\nHeavenly born, and bred on high,\\nTo crown the favorites of the sky\\nWith more of happiness below,\\nThan victors in a triumph know\\nWhither, O whither art thou fled,\\nTo lay thy meek, contented head\\nWhat happy region dost thou please\\nTo make the seat of calms and ease\\nAmbition searches all its sphere\\nOf pomp and state, to meet thee there.\\nIncreasing avarice would find\\nThy presence in its gold inshrined.\\nThe bold adventurer plows his way,\\nThrough rocks amidst the foaming sea,\\nTo gain thy love and then perceives\\nThou wert not in the rocks and waves.\\nThe silent heart which grief assails,\\nTreads soft and lonesome o er the vales,\\nSees daisies open, rivers run,\\nAnd seeks (as I have vainly done)\\nAmusing thought but learns to know\\nThat solitude s the nurse of woe.\\nNo real happiness is found\\nIn trailing purple o er the ground", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "132 BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nOr in a soul exalted high,\\nTo range the circuit of the sky,\\nConverse with stars above, and know\\nAll nature in its form below\\nThe rest it seeks, in seeking dies,\\nAnd doubts at last for knowledge rise.\\nLovely, lasting peace, appear\\nThis world itself, if thou art here.\\nIs once again with Eden bless d,\\nAnd man contains it in his breast.\\nTwas thus, as under shade I stood.\\nI sung my wishes to the wood,\\nAnd, lost in thought, no more perceived\\nThe branches whisper as they waved j\\nIt seem d as all the quiet place\\nConfess d the presence of the Grace\\nWhen thus she spoke Go, rule thy will.\\nBid thy wild passions all be still,\\nKnow God and bring thy heart to know\\nThe joys which from religion flow\\nThen every grace shall prove its guest.\\nAnd I ll be there to crown the res^\\nOh by yonder mossy seat,\\nIn my hours of sweet retreat.\\nMight I thus my soul employ,\\nWith sense of gratitude and joy\\n-Raised as ancient prophets were,\\nIn heavenly vision, praise, and prayer.\\nPleasing all men, hurting none,\\nPleased and bless d with God alone;\\nThen while the gardens take my sight.\\nWith all the colors of delight", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. Is*\\nWhile silver waters glide along,\\nTo please my ear and court my song,\\nI ll lift my voke, and tune my string.\\nAnd thee, Great Source of Nature, sing.\\nThe sun that walks his airy way,\\nTo light the world and give the day\\nThe moon that shines with borrow d light\\nThe stars that gild the gloomy night 5\\nThe seas that roll unnumber d waves\\nThe wood that spreads its shady leaves\\nThe field, whose ears conceal the grain.\\nThe yellow treasure of the plain 5\\nAll of these, and all I see,\\nShould be sung, and sung by me\\nThey speak their Maker as they can.\\nBut want and ask the tongue of man,\\nGo, search among your idle dream*.\\nYour busy or your vain extremes 5\\nAnd find a life of equal bliss,\\nOr own the next begun in this.\\nJIN ALLEGORY ON MAN\\nBY DR. THOMAS PARNELL.\\nA THOUGHTFUL being, long and spare,\\nOur race of mortals call him Care,\\n(Were Homer living, well he knew\\nWhat name the gods have calPd him too\\nM2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "134 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWith fine mechanic genius wrought,\\nAnd loved to work, though no one bought.\\nThis being, by a model bred\\nIn Jove s eternal sable head,\\nContrived a shape empower d to breath?,\\nAnd be the worldling here beneath.\\nThe man rose staring, like a stake,\\nWondering to see himself awake\\nThen look d so wise, before he knew\\nThe business he was made to do\\nThat, pleased to see with what a grace\\nHe gravely show d his forward face,\\nJove talk d of breeding him on high,\\nAn under-something of the sky.\\nBut ere he gave the mighty nod,\\nWhich ever binds a poet s god,\\n(For which his curls ambrosial shake,\\nAnd mother Earth s obliged to quake)\\nHe saw old mother Earth arise\\nShe stood confess d before his eyes\\nBut not with what we read she wore,\\nA castle for a crown before,\\nNor with long streets and longer roads\\nDangling behind her like commodes\\nAs yet with wreaths alone she dress*d,\\nAnd trail d a landscape -painted vest.\\nThen thrice she raised, as Ovid said,\\nAnd thrice she bow d her weighty head*\\nHer honors made, Great Jove, she cried.\\nThis thing was fashion d from my side\\nHis hands, his heart, his head, are mine 5\\nThen what hast thou to call him thine", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 135\\nNay, rather ask, the monarch said,\\nWhat boots his hand, his heart, his head\\nWere what I gave removed away,\\nThy part s an idle shape of clay.\\nHalves, more than halves cried honest Care..\\nYour pleas would make your titles fair\\nYou claim the body, you the soul\\nBut I who joinM them, claim the whole.\\nThus with the gods debate began,\\nOn such, a trivial cause as Man.\\nAnd can celestial tempers rage\\n(Quoth Yirgil) in a latter age\\nAs thus they wrangled, Time came by\\n(There s none that paint him such as 1 5\\nFor what the fabling ancients sung\\nMakes Saturn old when Time was young\\nAs yet his winters had not shed\\nTheir silver honors on his head\\nHe just had got Ms pinions free\\nFrom his old sire, Eternity.\\nA serpent girdled round he wore.\\nThe tail within the mouth before\\nBy which our almanacs are clear\\nThat learned Egypt meant the year.\\nA staff he carried, where on high\\nA glass was fix d to measure by,\\nAs amber boxes made a show\\nFor heads of canes an age ago.\\nHis vest, for day and night, was pied j\\nt A bending sickle arnvd his side\\nAnd spring s new month his train adorn 5\\nThe other seasons were unborn.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "136 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nKnown by the gods, as near he draws.\\nThey make him umpire of the cause.\\nO er a low trunk his arm he laid,\\nWhere since his hours a dial made\\nThen, leaning, heard the nice debate,\\nAnd thus pronounced the words of fate\\nSince body from the parent Earth,\\nAnd soul from Jove received a birth,\\nReturn they where they first began\\nBut since their union makes the man,\\nTill Jove and Earth shall part these two,\\nTo Care, who join d them, man is due.\\nHe said, and sprung with swift career\\nTo trace a circle for the year\\nWhere ever since the seasons wheel,\\nAnd tread on one another s heel.\\nTis well, said Jove and, for consent,\\nThundering, he shook the firmament.\\nOur umpire, Time, shall have his way\\nWith Care I let the creature stay\\nLet business vex him, avarice blind,\\nLet doubt and knowledge rack his mind.\\nLet error act, opinion speak,\\nAnd want afflict, and sickness break,\\nAnd anger burn, dejection chill,\\nAnd joy distract, and sorrow kill\\nTill, arm d by Care, and taught to mow.\\nTime draws the long destructive blow\\nAnd wasted man, whose quick decay\\nComes hurrying on before his day,\\nShall only find by this decree,\\nThe soul flies sooner back to me.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 137\\nTHE GARLAND.\\nBY MATTHEW PRIOR,\\n.THE pride of every grove I chose,\\nThe violet sweet, and lily fair,\\nThe dappled pink, and blushing rose.\\nTo deck my charming Chloe s hair.\\nAt morn the nymph voushsafed to place\\nUpon her brow the various wreath\\nThe flowers, less blooming than her face,\\nThe scent, less fragrant than her breath.\\nThe flowers she wore along the clay n\\nAnd every nymph and shepherd said,\\nThat in her hair they look d more gay\\nThan glowing in their native bed.\\nUndress d at evening, when she found\\nTheir odors lost, their colors past 5\\nShe changed her look, and on the ground\\nHer garland and her eye she cast.\\nThat eye dropp d sense, distinct and clear.\\nAs any Muse s tongue could speak,\\nWhen, from its lids, a pearly tear\\nStole trickling down her beauteous check\\nDissembling what I knew too well,\\nMy love, my life, said I, explain\\nThis change of humor pry thee tell\\nThat failing tear\u00e2\u0080\u0094 what does it mean r", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "138 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nShe siglrd she smiled and to the flowers\\nPointing, the lovely moralist said,\\nSee, friend, in some few fleeting hours,\\nSee yonder, what a change is made.\\nAh me the hlooming pride of May,\\nAnd that of beauty, are hut one\\nAt morn, both flourish bright and gay\\nBoth fade at evening, pale, and gone.\\nAt dawn, poor Stella danced and sung;\\nThe amorous youth around her bowM\\nAt night her fatal knell was rung\\nI saw, and kiss d her in her shroud.\\nSuch as she is, who died to-day,\\nSuch I, alas, may be to-morrow.\\nGo, Damon, bid thy Muse display\\nThe justice of tliy Chloe s sorrow.\\n,bijj p\\nA DIRGE IK CYMBEUNE.\\nBY WILLIAM COLLINS.\\nI.\\nX fair Fidele s grassy tomb,\\nSoft maids and village hinds shall bring\\nEach opening sweet, of earliest bloom,\\nAnd rifle all the breathing spring.\\nII.\\nNo wailing ghost shall dare appear\\nTo vex with shrieks this quiet grove", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 159\\nBut shepherd lads assemble here,\\nAnd melting virgins own their love.\\nIII.\\nNo wither d witch shall here be seen,\\nNo goblins lead their nightly crew\\nThe female fays shall haunt the green,\\nAnd dress thy grave with pearly dew\\nIV.\\nThe redbreast, oft at evening hours,\\nShall kindly lend his little aid\\n.With hoary moss, and gather d flowers,\\nTo deck the ground where thou art laid.\\nV.\\nWhen howling winds, and beating rain,\\nIn tempests shake the sylvan cell\\nOr, midst the chase of every plain,\\nThe tender thoughts on thee shall dwell.\\nVI.\\nEach lonely scene shall thee restore,\\nFor thee the tear be duly shed\\nBeloved, till life could charm no more\\nAnd mourn d, till Pity s self be dead.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "140 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nODE\\n0JV THE DEATH OF MR. THOMSON.\\nBY WILLIAM COLLINS.\\nI.\\nIN yonder grave a Druid lies,\\nWhere slowly winds the stealing wave\\nThe year s best sweets shall duteous rise,\\nTo deck its Poet s sylvan grave\\nII.\\nIn yon deep bed of whispering reeds\\nHis airy harp shall now be laid,\\nThat he, whose heart in sorrow bleeds,\\nMay love, through life, the soothing shade.\\nIII.\\nThen maids and youths shall linger here,\\nAnd, while its sounds at distance swell,\\nShall sadly seem in Pity s ear\\nTo hear the woodland pilgrim s knell.\\nIV.\\nRemembrance oft shall haunt the shore\\nWhen Thames in summer wreaths is drest.\\nAnd oft suspend the dashing oar\\nTo bid his gentle spirit rest\\nV.\\nAnd oft as ease and health retire\\nTo breezy lawn, or forest deep,\\nThe friend shall view yon whitening spire,\\nAnd, mid the varied landscape, weep.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 141\\nVI.\\nBut thou, who own st that earthly bed,\\nAh I what will every dirge avail\\nOr tears which love and pity shed,\\nThat mourn beneath the gliding sail\\nVII.\\nVet lives there one, whose heedless eye\\nShall scorn thy pale shrine glimmering near\\nWith him, sweet bard, may fancy die,\\nAnd joy desert the blooming year.\\nVIII.\\nBut thou, lorn stream, whose sullen tide\\nNo sedge-crown d sisters now attend,\\nNow waft me from the green hill s side,\\nWhose cold turf hides the buried friend\\nIX.\\n*\\\\nd see, the fairy valleys fade\\nDun night has veil d the solemn view\\nYet once again, dear parted shade,\\nMeek Nature s child, again adieu\\n.The genial meads assign d to bless\\nThy life, shall mourn thy early doom\\nTheir hinds and shepherd girls shall dress,\\nWith simple hands, thy rural tomb.\\nXL\\nLong, long thy stone and pointed clay\\nShall melt the musing Briton s eyes\\n9 vales and wild woods, shall he say.\\nIn yonder grave your Druid lies\\nN", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "fa BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTOMORROW.\\nBY DR. COTTON.\\nPereunt et Imputantw.\\nTO-MORROW, didst thou say\\nMethought I heard Horatio say, To-morrow.\\nGo to-I will not hear of it-To-morrow\\nTis a sharper, who stakes his penury\\nAgainst thy plenty-who takes thy ready cash,\\nAnd pays thee nought but wishes, hopes, and promises,\\nThe currency of idiots\u00e2\u0080\u0094 Injurious bankrupt,\\nThat gulls the easy creditor 1-To-morrow\\nIt is a period no where to be found\\nIn all the hoary registers of Time,\\nUnless perchance in the fool s calendar.\\nWisdom disclaims the word, nor holds society\\nWith those who own it. No, my Horatio,\\nTis fancy s child, and folly is its father\\nWrought of such stuff as dreams are and baseles.\\nAs the 5 fantastic visions of the evening.\\nBut soft, my friend\u00e2\u0080\u0094 arrest the present moments\\nFor be assured, they all are arrant tell-tales;\\nAnd though their flight be silent, and their path\\nTrackless, as the wing d couriers of the air,\\nThey post to heaven, and there record thy folly.\\nBecause, though station d on th important watch,\\nThou, like a sleeping, faithless centinel,\\nDidst let them pass unnoticed, unimproved.\\nAnd know, for that thou slumber dst on the guard,\\nThou shalt be made to answer at the bar", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 143\\nFor every fugitive and when thou thus\\nvShalt stand impleaded at the high tribunal\\nOf hoodwinked Justice, who shall tell thy audit\\nThen stay the present instant, dear Horatio\\nImprint the marks of wisdom on its wings.\\n*Tis of more worth than kingdoms! far more precu aa\\nThan all the crimson treasures of life s fountain.\\nOh let it not elude thy grasp, but like\\nThe good old patriarch upon record,\\nHold the fleet angel fast, until he bless\\nTHE BEJVEDICITE PARAPHRASED.\\nBY THE REV. MR. MERRICK.\\nI.\\nYE works of God, on him alone,\\nIn earth his footstool, heaven his throne\\nBe all your praise bestow d;\\nWhose hand the beauteous fabric made,\\nWhose eye the finish d work surveyed,\\nAnd saw that all was good.\\nII.\\nYe angels, that with loud acclaim\\nAdmiring view d the new-born frame.\\nAnd hail d th Eternal King\\nAgain proclaim your Maker s praise\\nAgain your thankful voices raise.\\nAnd touch the tuneful string.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": ",144 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nIII.\\nPraise him, ye blest ethereal plains,\\nWhere, in full majesty, he deigns\\nTo fix his awful throne\\nYe waters, that above him roll,\\nFrom orb to orb, from pole to pole,\\nOh make his praises known\\nIV.\\nYe thrones, dominions, virtues, powers\\nJoin ye your joyful song with ours,\\nWith us your voices raise\\nFrom age to age extend the lay,\\nTo heaven s eternal Monarch pay\\nHymns of eternal praise.\\nV.\\nCelestial orb whose powerful ray\\nOpes the glad eyelids of the day,\\nWhose influence all things own;\\nPraise him, whose courts effulgent shine\\nWith light, as far excelling thine,\\nAs thine the paler moon.\\nVI.\\nYe glittering planets of the sky,\\nVvliose lamps the absent sun supply\\nWith him the song pursue\\n\\\\nd let himself submissive own,\\nHe borrows from the brighter Sun\\nThe light he lends to you.\\nVII.\\nYe showers and dews, whose moisture shed.\\nCalls into life the opening seed,\\nTo him your praises yield", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 14o\\nWhose influence wakes the genial birth,\\nDrops fatness on the pregnant earth,\\nAnd crowns the laughing field.\\nVIII.\\nYe winds, that oft tempestuous sweep\\nThe ruffled surface of the deep,\\nWith us confess your God\\nSee, through the heavens, the King of kings.\\nUp-borne on your expanded wings.\\nComes flying all abroad.\\nIX.\\nY e floods of fire, where er ye flow.\\nWith just submission humbly bow\\nTo his superior power\\nWho stops his tempest on its way.\\nOr bids the flaming deluge stray,\\nAnd gives it strength to roar.\\nX.\\nYe summer s heat, and winter s cold.\\nBy turns in long succession roll d,\\nThe drooping world to cheer\\nPraise him, who gave the sun and moon,\\nTo lead the various seasons on,\\nAnd guide the circling year.\\nXI.\\nYe frosts, that bind the watery plain,\\nYe silent showers of fleecy rain,\\nPursue the heavenly theme\\nPraise him, who sheds the driven snow.\\nForbids the harden d waves to flow,\\nAnd stops the rapid stream.\\nN 2", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "146 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXII.\\nYe days and nights, that swiftly borne\\nFrom morn to -eve, from eve to morn,\\nAlternate glide away\\nPraise him, whose never varying light,\\nAbsent, adds horror to the night,.\\nBut present, gives the day.\\nXIII.\\nLight from whose rays all beauty springs-\\nDarkness whose wide expanded wings\\nInvolve the dusky globe\\nPraise him, who, when the heavens he spread.\\nDarkness his thick pavilion made,\\nAnd light his regal robe.\\nXIV.\\nPraise him, ye lightnings, as ye fly,.\\nWing d with his vengeance through the sky-;\\nAnd red with wrath divine\\nPraise him, ye clouds, that wandering stray.\\nOr, fix d by him in close array,\\nSurround his awful shrine.\\nXXV.\\nExalt, earth thy heavenly King,\\nWho bids the plants, that form the springs\\nWith annual verdure bloom\\nWhose frequent drops of kindly rain,\\nProlific swell the ripening grain,\\nAnd bless thy fertile womb.\\nXVI.\\nYe mountains, that ambitious rise,.\\nAnd heave your summits to the skies,\\nRevere his awful no4", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 147\\nThink how ye once affrighted fled,\\nWhen Jordan sought his fountain head,\\nAnd own d th approaching God.\\nXVII.\\nYe trees, that fill the rural scene,\\nYe flowers, that o er th enamell d green.\\nIn native beauty reign,\\nO praise the ruler of the skies,\\nWhose hand the genial sap supplies,\\nAnd clothes the smiling plain.\\nXVIII.\\nYe secret springs, ye gentle rills,\\nThat murmuring rise among the hills,\\nOr fill the humble vale\\nPraise him, at whose almighty nod\\nThe rugged rock dissolving flow d,\\nAnd form d a springing well.\\nXIX.\\nPraise him, ye floods, and seas profound,\\nWhose waves the spacious earth surround.\\nAnd roll from shore to shore\\nAwed by his voice, ye seas, subside,\\nYe floods, within your channels glide,\\nAnd tremble and adore.\\nXX.\\nU Ye whales, that stir the boiling deep,\\nOr in its dark recesses sleep,\\nRemote from human eye\\nPraise him, by whom ye all are fed,\\nPraise him, without whose heavenly aid.\\nYe languish, faint, and die.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "148 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXXL\\nYe birds, exalt your Maker s name,\\nBegin, and with th important theme\\nYour artless lays improve 5\\nWake with your songs the rising day,\\nLet music sound on every spray,\\nAnd fill the vocal grove.\\nXXII.\\nPraise him, ye beasts, that nightly roam\\nAmid the solitary gloom,\\nTh expected prey to seize\\nYe slaves of the laborious plow,\\nYour stubborn necks submissive bow,\\nAnd bend your wearied knees.\\nXXIII.\\nYe sons of men, his praise display,\\nWho stamp d his image on your clay,\\nAnd gave it power to move\\nYe, that in Judah s confines dwell,\\nFrom age to age successive tell\\nThe wonders of his love.\\nXXIV.\\nLet Levi s tribe the lay prolong,\\nTill angels listen to the song,\\nAnd bend attentive down\\nLet wonder seize the heavenly train,\\nPleased, while they hear a mortal strain,\\nSo sweet, so like their own.\\nXXV.\\nAnd you, your thankful voices join,\\nThat oft, at Salem s sacred shrine,\\nBefore his altars kneel", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 149\\nWhere, throned in majesty he dwells.\\nAnd from the mystic cloud reveals\\nThe dictates of his will.\\nXXVI.\\nYe spirits of the just and good,\\nThat, eager for the blest abode,\\nTo heavenly mansions soar 5\\ni let your songs his praise display r\\nTill heaven itself shall melt away,\\nAnd time shall be no more.\\nXXVII.\\nPraise him, ye meek and humble train.\\nYe saints, whom his decrees ordain\\nThe boundless bliss to share\\npraise him, till ye take your way\\nTo regions of eternal day,\\nAnd reign for ever there*\\nXXVIII.\\nLet us, who now impassive stand,\\nAwed by the tyrant s stern command,\\nAmid the fiery blaze\\nWhile thus we triumph in the flame,\\nRise, and our Maker s love proclaim.\\nIn hymns of endless praise.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "150 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTHE SPLENDID SHILLING.\\nBY JOHN PHILLIPS.\\nSing-, heavenly Muse\\nTilings unattended yet, in prose or rhyme\\nA shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire.\\nHAPPY the man, who, void of cares and strife;\\nIn silken or in leathern purse, retains\\nA Splendid Shilling; he nor hears with pain\\nNew oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale\\nBut, with his friends, when nightly mists arise,\\nTo Junipers Magpye, or Town-hall,* repairs:\\nWhere, mindful of the nymph whose wanton eye\\nTransfix d his soul, and kindled amorous flames,\\nChloe, or Phyllis, in each circling glass\\nWisheth her health, and joy, and equal love.\\nMeanwhile he smokes, and laughs at merry tale,\\nOr pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint.\\nBut I, whom griping penury surrounds,\\nAnd hunger, sure attendant upon want,\\nWith scanty oftals and small acid tiff\\n(Wretched repast!) my meagre corpse sustain\\nThen solitary walk, or doze at home\\nIn garret vile, and with a warming puff\\nRegale chill d fingers or from tube as black\\nAs winter chimney, or well polish d jet,\\nExhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent\\nTwo Ate-h nise*.", "height": "3052", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 15 i\\nNot blacker tube, nor of a shorter size,\\nSmokes Cambro-Briton, (versed in pedigree,\\nSprung from Cadwallader and Arthur, king-\\nFull famous in romantic tale) when he\\nO er many a craggy hill and barren cliff,\\nUpon a cargo of famed Cestrian cheese,\\nHigh overshadowing rides, with a design\\nTo vend his wares, or at th Arvonian mart\\nOr Maridunum, or the ancient town\\nYclep d Brechinia, or where Vaga s stream\\nEncircles Ariconium, fruitful soil\\nWhence flow nectareous wines, that well may vie\\nWith Massic, Setin, or renown d Falern.\\nThus, while my joyless minutes tedious flow,\\nWith looks demure, and silent pace, a dun,\\nHorrible monster hated by gods and men,\\nTo my aerial citadel ascends\\nWith vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate,\\nWith hideous accent thrice he calls I know\\nThe voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound.\\nWhat should I do or whither turn Amazed,\\nConfounded, to the dark recess I fly\\nOf wood-hole straight my bristling hairs erect\\nThrough sudden fear a chilly sweat bedews\\nMy shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell\\nMy tongue forgets her faculty of speech\\nSo horrible he seems His faded brow\\nEntrench d with many a frown, and conic beard,\\nAnd spreading band, admired hy modern saints.\\nDisastrous acts forebode in his right hand\\nLong scrolls of paper solemnly he waves,\\nWith characters and figures dire inscribed,\\nGrievous to mortal eyes (yc gods, avert", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "!5\u00c2\u00a3 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nSuch plagues from righteous men Behind him stalks\\nAnother monster, not unlike himself,\\nSullen of aspect, by the vulgar call d\\nA catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods\\nWith force incredible, and magic charms,\\nErst have endued if he his ample palm\\nShould haply on ill-fated shoulder lay\\nOf debtor, straight his body, to the touch\\nObsequious, (as whilom knights were won\\nTo some enchanted castle is convey d,\\nWhere gates impregnable, and coercive chains.\\nIn durance strict detain him, till, in form\\nOf money, Pallas sets the captive free.\\nBeware, ye debtors when ye walk, beware\\nBe circumspect; oft, with insidious ken,\\nThe caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft\\nLies perdue in a nook, or gloomy cave,\\nPrompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch\\nWith his unhallow-d touch. So (poets sing)\\nGrimalkin, to domestic vermin sworn\\nAn everlasting foe, with watchful eye\\nLies nightly brooding o er a clunky gap,\\nProtending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice\\nSure ruin. So her diseinbowelPd web\\nArachne in a hall or kitchen spreads,\\nObvious to vagrant flies she secret stands\\nWithin her woven cell the humming prey,\\nRegardless of their fate, rush on the toils\\nInextricable, nor will aught avail\\nTheir arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue\\nThe wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone,\\nAnd butterfly proud of expanded wings\\nBistinct with gold, entangled in her snares.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 153\\nUseless resistance make; with eager strides,\\nShe towering flies to her expected spoils\\nThen, with envenora d jaws, the vital blood\\nDrinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave\\nTheir bulky carcases triumphant drags.\\nSo pass my days. But when nocturnal shades\\nThis world envelope, and th inclement air\\nPersuades men to repel benumbing frosts\\nWith pleasant wines and crackling blaze of wood\\nMe, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light\\nOf make-weight candle, nor the joyous talk\\nOf loving friend, delights; distress d, forlorn,\\nAmidst the horrors of the tedious night,\\nDarkling sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts\\nMy anxious mind or sometimes mournful verse\\nIndite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades,\\nOr desperate lady near a purling stream,\\nOr lover pendent on a willow tree.\\nMeanwhile I labor with eternal drought,\\nAnd restless wish and rave my parched throat\\nFinds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose\\nBut if a slumber haply does invade\\nMy weary limbs, my fancy s still awake,\\nThoughtful of drink, and eager, in a dream,\\nTipples imaginary pots of ale,\\nIn vain awake I find the settled thirst\\nStill gnawing, and the pleasant phantom curse.\\nThus do I live from pleasure quite debar r dj\\nNor taste the fruits that the sun s genial rays\\nMature, john-apple, nor the downy peach,\\nNor walnut in rough furrow d coat secure,\\nNor medlar fruit delicious in decay\\nAfflictions great yet greater still remain\\nO", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "154 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nMy galligaskins, that have long withstood\\nThe winter s fury and encroaching frosts,\\nBy time subdued (what will not time subdue\\nAn horrid chasm disclose, with orifice\\nWide, discontinuous at which the winds\\nEurus and Auster, and the dreadful force\\nOf Boreas, that congeals the Cronian waves.\\nTumultuous enter with dire chilling blasts,\\nPortending agues. Thus a well fraught ship\\nLong sail d secure, or through th iEgean deep.\\nOr the Ionian, till cruising near\\nThe Lilybean shore, with hideous crash,\\nOn Scylla, or Charybdis, (dangerous rocks\\nShe strikes rebounding whence the shatter d oak,\\nSo fierce a shock unable to withstand,\\nAdmits the sea in at the gaping side\\nThe crowding waves rush with impetuous rage,\\nResistless, overwhelming horrors seize\\nThe mariners death in their eyes appears\\nThey stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray\\n(Vain efforts still the battering waves rush in\\nImplacable, till, deluged by the foam,\\nThe ship sinks foundering in the vast abyss.\\nMADNESS, JW ODE.\\nBY MR. PENROSE.\\nSWELL the clarion, sweep the string.\\nBlow into rage the Muse s fires\\nAil thy answers. Echo, bring.", "height": "3061", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 155\\nLet wood and dale, let rock and valley ring,\\nTis Madness self inspires.\\nHail, awful Madness, hail\\nThy realm extends, thy powers prevail,\\nFar as the voyager spreads his venturous sail.\\nNor best nor wisest are exempt from thee\\nFolly Folly s only free.\\nHark to th astonish d ear\\nThe gale conveys a strange tumultuous sound\\nThey now approach, they now appear\\nFrenzy leads her chorus near,\\nAnd demons dance around.\\nPride Ambition idly vain,\\nRevenge, and Malice, swell her train i.\\nDevotion warp d Affection cross d\\nHope in Disappointment lost\\nAnd injured Merit with a downcast eye,\\n(Hurt by Neglect) slow stalking heedless bj.\\nLoud the shouts of Madness rise,\\nVarious voices, various cries\\nMirth unmeaning causeless moans,\\nBursts of laughter heart -fek groans\\nAll seem to pierce the skies.\\nRough as the wintry wave that roar?\\nOn Thule s desert shores,\\nWild raving to th unfeeling air,\\nThe fetter d maniac foams along,\\n(Rage the burthen of his jarring song)\\nIn rage he grinds his teeth, and rends his streaming hui:\\nNo pleasing memory left forgotten quite\\nAll former scenes of dear delight.\\nConnubial love parental joy\u00e2\u0080\u0094", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "m BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nNo sympathies like these his soul employ.\\nBut all is dark within, all furious black despair.\\nNot so the love-lorn maid,\\nBy too much tenderness betray d\\nHer gentle breast no angry passion fires,\\nBut slighted vows possess, and fainting soft desir.e\u00c2\u00ab.\\nShe yet retains her wonted flame\\nAll hut in reason, still the same\\nStreaming eyes,\\nIncessant sighs,\\nDim haggard looks, and clouded o er with care,\\nPoint out to Pity s tears the poor distracted fair..\\nDead to the world her fondest wishes cross d,\\nShe mourns herself thus early lost.\\nNow sadly gay, of sorrows past she sings,\\nNow, pensive ruminates unutterable things.\\nShe starts she flies who dare so rude\\nOn her sequestrate steps intrude\\nf is he, the Momus of the flighty train-\\nMerry mischief fills his brain.\\nBlanket robed, and antic crown d,\\nThe mimic monarch skips around\\nBig with conceit of dignity he smiles,\\nAnd plots his frolics quaint, and unsuspected wiles.\\nLaughter was there but mark that groan,\\nDrawn from the inmost soul\\nV Give the knife, demons, or the poison d bowl.\\nTo finish miseries equal to your own.\\nWho is this wretch, with horror wild\\nTis Devotion s ruin d child\\n^unk in the emphasis of grief,\\nNor can he feel, nor dares he ask, relief.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, U7\\nThou, fair Religion, wast design d,\\nDuteous daughter of the skies,\\nTo warm and cheer the human mind,\\nTo make men happy, good, and wise.\\nTo point where sits, in love array d,\\nAttentive to each suppliant call,\\nThe God of universal aid,\\nThe God, the Father of us all.\\nFirst shown by thee, thus glow d the gracious scene.\\nTill Superstition, fiend of woe,\\nBade doubts to rise, and tears to flow,\\nAnd spread deep shades our view and heaven betweei?\\nDrawn by her pencil, the Creator stands,\\n(His beams of mercy thrown aside)\\nWith thunder arming his uplifted hands,\\nAnd hurling vengeance wide.\\nHope, at the frown aghast, yet lingering, flies,\\nAnd dash d on Terror s rocks Faith s best dependence-\\nlies.\\nBut ah too thick they crowd, too close they throng,\\nObjects of pity and affright\\nSpare farther the descriptive song\\nNature shudders at the sight\\nProtract not, curious ears, the mournful tale,\\nBut o er the hapless group low drop Compassion s YeiL\\nODE TO MELANCHOLY.\\nBY DR. OGILVIE.\\nHAIL, queen of thought sublime propitious power.\\nWho o er th unbounded waste art joy d to roam.", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "150 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nLed by the moon, when, at the midnight hour,\\nHer pale rays tremble through the dusky gloom.\\nO bear me, goddess, to thy peaceful seat\\nWhether to Hecla s cloud-wrapp d brow convey d,\\nOr lodged where mountains screen thy deep retreat,\\nOr wandering wild through Chili s boundless shade.\\nSay, rove thy steps o er Lybia s naked waste\\nOr seek some distant solitary shore\\nOr on the Andes topmost mountain placed,\\nDost sit, and hear the solemn thunder roar\\nFix d on some hanging rock s projected brow,\\nHear st thou low murmurs from the distant dome r\\nOr stray thy feet where pale dejected Woe\\nPours her long wail from some lamented tomb\\nHark yon deep echo strikes the trembling ear\\nSee, night s dun curtain wraps the darksome pole\\nO er heaven s blue arch yon rolling worlds appear,\\nAnd rouse to solemn thought th aspiring soul.\\nO lead my steps, beneath the moon s dim ray,\\nWhere Tadmor stands all desert and alone\\nWhile, from her time-shook towers, the bird of prey\\nSounds through the night her long-resounding moan.\\nOr bear me far to yon dark dismal plain,\\nWhere fell -eyed tigers, all athirst for blood,\\nHowl to the desert while the horrid train\\nRoams o er the wild where once great Babel stood\\nThat queen of nations whose superior call\\nRoused the broad East, and bid her arms destroy\\nWhen warm d to mirth, let judgment mark her fall,\\nAnd deep reflection dash the lip of joy.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 159\\nShort is ambition s gay deceitful dream\\nThough wreaths of blooming laurel bind her brow,\\nCalm thought dispels the visionary scheme,\\nAnd time s cold breath dissolves the withering bough.\\nSlow as some miner saps th aspiring tower,\\nWhen working secret with destructive aim\\nUnseen, unheard, thus moves the stealing hour,\\nBut works the fall of empire, pomp, and name.\\nThen let thy pencil mark the traits of man\\nFull in the draught be keen -eyed Hope portray M:\\nLet fluttering Cupids crowd the growing plan\\nThen give one touch and dash it deep with shade.\\nBeneath the plume that flames with glancing rays,\\nBe Care s deep engine on the soul impressed\\nBeneath the helmet s keen refulgent blaze,\\nLet Grief sit pining in the canker d breast.\\nLet Love s gay sons, a smiling train, appear,\\nWith beauty pierced yet heedless of the dart\\nWhile closely couched, pale sickening Envy near\\nWhets her fell sting, and points it at the heart.\\nPerchM like a raven on some blasted yew.\\nLet Guilt revolve the thought-distracting sin\\nScared- while her eyes survey th ethereal blue,\\nLet Heaven s strong lightning burst the dark within.\\nThen paint, impending o er the maddening deep,\\nThat rock, where heart-struck Sappho, vainly brave,\\nStood firm of soul then from the dizzy steep\\nImpetuous sprung, and dash d the boiling wave.\\nHere, wrapp d in studious thought, let Fancy rove.\\nStill prompt to mark Suspicion s secret snare", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "160 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTo see where Anguish nips the bloom of Love,\\nOr trace proud Grandeur to the domes of Care.\\nShould e er Ambition s towering hopes inflame,\\nLet judging Reason draw the veil aside\\nOr, fired with envy at some mighty name,\\nRead o er the monument that tells He died.\\nWhat are the ensigns of imperial sway P\\nWhat all that Fortune s liberal hand has brought\\nTeach they the voice to pour a sweeter lay\\nOr rouse the soul to more exalted thought\\nWhen bleeds the heart as Genius blooms unknown r\\nWhen melts the eye o er Virtue s mournful bier\\nNot Wealth, but Pity, swells the bursting groan,\\nNot Power, but whispering Nature, prompts the tear.\\nSay, gentle mourner, in yon mouldy vault,\\nWhere the worm fattens on some scepter d brow,\\nBeneath that roof with sculptured marble fraught,\\nWhy sleeps unmoved the breathless dust below\\nSleeps it more sweetly than the simple swain,\\nBeneath some mossy turf that rests his head\\nWhere the lone widow tells the night her pain,\\nAnd eve, with dewy tears, embalms the dead.\\nThe lily, screen d from every ruder gale,\\nCourts not the cultured spot where roses spring\\nBut blows neglected in the peaceful vale,\\nAnd scents the zephyr s balmy breathing wing.\\nThe busts of grandeur, and the pomp of power,\\nCan these bid Sorrow s gushing tears subside\\nCan these avail in that tremendous hour,\\nWhen Death s cold hand congeals the purple tide", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. l l\\nAh no the mighty names are heard no more\\nPride s thought sublime. and Beauty s kindling bloom.\\nServe but to sport one flying moment o er,\\nAnd swell, with pompous verse, the scutcheon d tomb.\\nFor me may Passion ne er my soul invade,\\nNor be the whims of towering Frenzy given 5\\nLet Wealth ne er court me from the peaceful shade.\\nWhere Contemplation wings the soul to Heaven f\\nO guard me safe from Joy s enticing snare\\nWitb each extreme that Pleasure tries to hide,\\nThe poison d breath of slow-consuming Care,\\nThe noise of Folly, and the dreams of Pride,\\nBut oft, when midnight s sadly solemn knell\\nSounds long and distant from the sky-topp d tower-\\nCalm let me sit in Prospers lonely cell,*\\nOr walk with Milton through the dark obscure.\\nThus, when the transient dream of life is fled,\\nMay some sad friend recall the former years^\\nThen stretch d in silence o er my dusty bed,\\nPour the warm gush of sympathetic tears\\nOF TASTE.\\nJ.V ESSAY.\\nBY MR. CAWTHORN.\\nWELL though our passions riot, fret, and rave.\\nWild and capricious as the wind and wave.\\nSee Shakspeares Tempest", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "162 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nOne common folly, say whate er we can,\\nHas fix d, at last, the mercury of man\\nAnd rules, as sacred as his father s creed,\\nO er every native of the Thames and Tweed.\\nAsk ye what power it is that dares to claim\\nSo vast an empire, and so wide a fame\\nWhat God unshrined in all the ages past\\nI ll tell you, friend in one short word tis Taste 5\\nTaste, that, without or head, or ear, or heart,\\nOne gift of nature, or one grace of art,\\nEnnobles riches, sanctifies expense,\\nAnd takes the place of spirit, worth and sense.\\nIn elder times, ere yet our fathers knew\\nRome s idle arts, or panted for Virtu,\\nOr sat whole nights Italian songs to hear,\\nWithout a genius, and without an ear 5\\nExalted sense, to warmer climes unknown,\\nAnd manly wit was Nature s, and our own.\\nBut when our virtues, wrapp d by wealth and peace,\\nBegan to slumber in the lap of ease\\nWhen Charles return d to his paternal reign,\\nWith more than fifty tailors in his train,\\nWe felt for Taste for then obliging France\\nTaught the rough Briton how to dress, and dance 1\\nPolitely told him all were brutes, and fools,\\nBut the gay coxcombs of her happier schools 5\\nThat all perfection in her language lay,\\nAnd the best author was her own Rabelais.\\nHence, by some strange malignity of fate,\\nWe take our fashions from the land we hate\\nStill slaves to her, howe er her taste inclines,\\nWe wear her ribbands., and we drink her wines", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 163\\nEat as she eats, no matter which or what,\\nA roasted lobster, or a roasted cat\\nAnd fill our houses with an hungry train\\nOf more than half the scoundrels of the Seine.\\nTime was, a wealthy Englishman would join\\nA rich plumb pudding to a fat sirloin\\nOr bake a pasty, whose enormous wall\\nTook up almost the area of his hall\\nBut now, as art improves and air refines,\\nThe demon Taste attends him when he dines\\nServes on his board an elegant regale,\\nWhere three stew d mushrooms flank a larded quail\\nWhere infant turkeys, half a month resign d\\nTo the soft breathings of a southern wind,\\nAnd, smother d in a rich ragout of snails,\\nOutstink a lenten supper at Versailles.\\nIs there a saint that would not laugh to see\\nThe good man piddling with his fricasee\\nForced by the luxury of Taste to drain\\nA flask of poison, which he calls champagne\\nWhile he, poor idiot, though he dare not speak.\\nPines all the while for porter, and ox-cheek.\\nSure tis enough to starve for pomp and show,\\nTo drink, and curse the clarets of Bordeaux\\nYet such our humor, such our skill to hit\\nExcess of folly through excess of wit,\\nWe plant the garden, and we build the seat,\\nJust as absurdly as we drink and eat.\\nFor is there aught that Nature s hand has sown\\nTo bloom and ripen in their hottest zone\\nIs there a shrub which, ere its verdures blow,\\nAsks all the suns that beam upon the Po", "height": "3116", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "164 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nIs there a floweret whose vermilion hue\\nCan only catch its beauty in Peru\\nIs there a portal, colonnade, or dome,\\nThe pride of Naples or the boast of Home\\nWe raise it here, in storms of wind and hail,\\nOn the bleak bosom of a sunless vale\\nCareless alike of climate, soil, and place,\\nThe cast of nature, and the smiles of grace.\\nHence all our stucco d walls, Mosaic floors,\\nPalladian windows, and Venetian doors 5\\nOur Gothic fronts, whose Attic wings unfold\\nFluted pilasters tipp d with leaves of gold\\nOur massy ceilings, graced with gay festoons,\\nThe weeping marbles of our damp saloons,\\nLawns fringed with citrons, amaranthine bowers.,\\nExpiring myrtles, and unopening flowers.\\nHence the good Scotsman bids th anana blow\\nIn rocks of crystal, or in Alps of snow\\nOn Orcus steep extends his wide arcade,\\nAnd kills his scanty sunshine in a shade.\\nOne might expect a sanctity of style\\nAugust and manly in an holy pile,\\nAnd think an architect extremely odd\\nTo build a play-house for the church of God\\nYet half our churches, such the mode that reigns,\\nAre Roman theatres, or Grecian fanes\\nWhere broad arcb/d windows to the eye convey\\nThe keen diffusion of too strong a day\\nWhere, in the luxury of wanton pride,\\nCorinthian columns languish side by side,\\nClosed by an altar exquisitely fine,\\ni/oose and lascivious as a Cyprian shrine.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 165\\nOf late, tis true, quite sick of Rome and Greece.\\nWe fetch our models from the wise Chinese\\nEuropean artists are too cool and chaste,\\nFor Mandarin only is the man of taste\\nWhose bolder genius, fondly wild to see\\nHis grove a forest, and his pond a sea,\\nBreaks out and, whimsically great, designs\\nWithout the shackles or of rules or lines,\\nForm d on his plans, our farms and seats begin\\nTo match the boasted villas of Pekin.\\nOn every hill a spire-crown d temple swells,\\n1 Hung round with serpents, and a fringe of bells\\nJunks and balloons along our waters sail,\\nWith each a gilded cock -boat at its tail\\n^Our choice exotics to the breeze exhale\\nWithin th enclosure of a zig-zag rail;\\nin Tartar huts our cows and horses lie,\\nOur hogs are fatted in an Indian stye 5\\nOn every shelf a Joss divinely stares,\\nNymphs laid on chintzes sprawl upon our chairs i\\nWhile o er our cabinets Confucius nods,\\nMidst porcelain elephants, and China gods.\\nPeace to all such but you whose chaster fires\\nTrue greatness kindles, and true sense inspires.\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6Or ere you lay a stone, or plant a shade,\\nBend the proud arch, or roll the broad cascade.\\nEre all your wealth in mean profusion waste,\\n.Examine nature with the eye of Taste\\nMark where she spreads the lawn, or pours the rill,\\nFalls in the vale, or breaks upon the hill,\\nPlan as she plans, and where her genius calls,\\nThere sink your grottos, and there raise your walls,\\nP", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "166 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWithout this, Taste, beneath whose magic wand\\nTruth and correctness guide the artist s hand,\\nWoods, lakes, and palaces, are idle things,\\nThe shame of nations and the blush of kings.\\nExpense and Vanbrugh, vanity and show,\\nMay build a Blenheim, but not make a Stowe.\\nBut what is Taste, you ask, this heaven-born fire\\nWe all pretend to, and we all admire\\nIs it a casual grace or lucky hit\\nOr the cool efforts of reflecting wit\\nHas it no law but mere disguised will\\nNo just criterion fixed to good and ill\\nIt has time Taste, when delicately fine,\\nIs the pure sunshine of a soul divine,\\nThe full perfection of each mental power\\n5 Tis sense, tis nature, and tis something more.\\nTwin-born with Genius of one common bed,\\nOne parent bore them, and one master bred.\\nIt gives the lyre with happier sounds to flow,\\nWith purer blushes bids fair beauty glow\\nFrom Raphael s pencil calls a nobler line,\\nAnd warms, Corregio every touch of thine.\\nAnd yet, though sprung from one paternal flame,\\nGenius and Taste are different as their name\\nGenius, all sunbeam, where he throws a smile,\\nImpregnates nature faster than the Nile\\nWild and impetuous, high as heaven aspires.\\nAll science animates, all virtue fires\\nCreates ideal worlds, and there convenes\\nAerial forms, and visionary scenes.\\nBut Taste corrects, by one ethereal touch,\\nWhat seems too little, and what seems too much", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 16r\\nMarks the fine point where each consenting part\\nSlides into beauty with the ease of art;\\nThis bids to rise, and that with grace to fall,\\nAnd bounds, unites^ refines, and heightens all.\\nTHE BIRTH AND EDUCATION OF GEtVIU*\\nA TALE.\\nBY ME. CAAVTHORN.\\nYES, Harriet! say whate er you can.\\nTis education makes the man\\n\\\\Vhate er of genius we inherit,\\nExalted sense, and lively spirit.\\nMust all be disciplined by rules,\\nAnd take their color from the schools.\\n^Twas nature gave that cheek to glow,\\nThat breast to rise in hills of snow,\\nThose sweetly -temper d eyes to shine\\nAbove the sapphires of the mine.\\nBut all your more majestic charms,\\nWhere grace presides, where spirit warms\\nThai shape which falls by just degrees,\\nAnd flows into the pomp of ease 5\\nThat step, whose motion seems to swim,\\nThat melting harmony of limb,\\nWere form d by Glover s skilful glance,\\nAt Chelsea, when you learn d to dance.\\nTis so with man. His talents rest\\nMisshapen embryos in hie breast", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "168 BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nTill education s eye explores\\nThe sleeping intellectual powers,\\nAwakes the dawn of wit and sense,\\nAnd lights them into excellence.\\nOn this depends the patriot flame,\\nThe fine ingenuous feel of fame,\\nThe manly spirit, brave and bold,\\nSuperior to the taint of gold,\\nThe dread of infamy, the zeal\\nOf honor, and the public weal,\\nAnd all those virtues which presage\\nThe glories of a rising age.\\nBut, leaving all these graver things\\nTo statesmen, moralists, and kings,\\nWhose business tis such, points to settle\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nRing and bid Robin bring the kettle.\\nMeanwhile the Muse, whose sportive strain\\nFlows like her voluntary vein,\\nVnd impudently dares aspire\\nTo share the wreath with Swift and Prior,\\nShall tell an allegoric tale,\\nWhere truth lies hid beneath the veil.\\nOne April morn, as Phcebus play d\\ntlis carols in the Delphic shade,\\nV nymph call d Fancy, blithe and freev\\nThe favorite chUd of Liberty,\\nHeard, as she roved about the plain,\\nThe bold enthusiastic strain\\nShe heard, and led by warm desire,\\nTo know the artist of the lyre,\\nCrept softly to a sweet alcove,\\nHid in the umbrage of the grove,\\nAnd, peeping through the myrtle, sav\\nA handsome, young, celestial beau,", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF PQETRT. 169\\nOn nature s sopha stretch d along,\\nAwaking harmony and song.\\nStruck with his fine majestic mien.\\nAs certain to be loved as seen,\\nLong ere the melting air was o er,\\nShe cried, in extacy, encore\\nAnd, what a prude will think but odd.\\nPopp d out, and courtesied to the god.\\nPhoebus, gallant, polite, and keen as\\nEach earth-born votary of Venus,\\nHose up, and with a graceful air\\nAddress d the visionary fair\\nExcused his morning dishabille,\\nComplain d of late he had been ill,\\nIn short, he gazed, he bow d, he sigh d,\\nHe sung, he flatterd, press d, and lied,\\nWith such a witchery of art,\\nThat Fancy gave him all her heart,\\nHer catechism quite forgot-,\\nAnd waited on him to his grot.\\nIn length of time she bore a sou\\nAs brilliant as his sire the Sun.\\nPure ether was the vital ray\\nThat lighted up his liner clay\\nThe nymphs, the rosy-finger d hours?\\nThe dryads of the woods and bowers,\\nThe graces with their loosen d zones,\\nThe muses with their harps and crown*\\nYoung zephyrs of the softest wing,\\nThe loves that wait upon the spring.\\nWit, with his gay associate, Mirth,\\nAttended at the infant s birth,\\nP 2", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "170 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd said, let Genius be his name,\\nAnd bis the fairest wreath of fame.\\nThe gossips gone, the christening o er,\\nAnd Genius now twixt three and four,\\nPhoebus, according to the rule,\\nResolved to send his son to scbool\\nAnd, knowing well the tricks of youth,\\nResign d him to the matron Truth,\\nWhose hut, unknown to pride and pelf, was\\nNear his own oracle at Delphos.\\nThe reverend dame, who found the child\\nA little mischievous and wild,\\nTaught him at first to spell and read,\\nTo say his prayers, and get his creed\\nWould often tell him of the sky,\\nAnd what a crime it is to lie.\\nShe chid him when he did amiss^\\nWhen well, she bless d him with a kiss\\nHer sister Temperance, sage and quiet,\\nPresided at his meals and diet\\nShe watch d him with religious care,\\nAnd fed him with the simplest fare\\nWould never let the urchin eat\\nOf pickled pork, or butcher s meat 5\\nBut what of aliment earth yields,\\nIn gardens, orchards, woods, and fields\\nWhate er of vegetable wealth\\nWas cultured by the hand of healthy\\nShe cropp d and dress d it, as she knew well,\\nIn many a mess of soup and gruel 5\\nAnd now and then, to cheer his heart,\\nIndulged him with a Sunday s tart.\\nA lusty peasant chanced to dwell", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. j 71\\nHis name was Labor. Ere the dawn\\nHad broke upon the upland lawn,\\nHe hied him to his daily toil,\\nTo turn the glebe or mend the soiL\\nWith him young Genius oft would go\\nO er dreary wastes of ice and snow,\\nWith rapture climb the cloud-topp d hill,\\nOr wade across the shallow rill\\nOr through th entangling wood pursue\\nThe footsteps of a straggling ewe.\\nBy these fatigues he got at length\\nRobustness, and athletic strength-.\\nSpirits as light as flies the gale\\nI Along the lily-silver d vale\\nThe cherub Health, of dimple slee k,\\nSat radiant on his rosy cheek,\\nv And gave each nerve s elastic spring\\nThe vigor of an eaglet s wing.\\nTime now had roll d, with smooth career,\\nOur hero through his seventh year.\\nI Though in a rustic cottage bred,\\nThe busy imp had thought and read 5\\nHe knew th adventures, one by one,\\nOf Robin Hood and Little John;\\nCould sing, with spirit, warmth, and grace,\\nThe woful hunt of Chevy Chase\\nI And how St. George, his fiery nag on,\\nDestroy d the vast Egyptian dragon.\\nChief he admired that learned piece\\nWrote by the fabulist of Greece,\\nWhere wisdom speaks in crows and cock-.\\nAnd cunning sneaks into a fox.\\nIn short, as now his opening parts,\\n*Rti-\u00c2\u00bbo ftw +l,o niiHiiro r\\\\f t)if arte.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "3T2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nBecame in every hour acuter,\\nApollo look d out for a tutor\\nBut had a world of pains to find\\nThis artist of the human mind.\\nFor, in good truth, full many an ass was\\nAmong the doctors of Parnassus,\\nWho scarce had skill enough to teach\\nOld Lilly s elements of speech\\nAnd knew as much of men and morals\\nAs doctor Rock of ores and corals.\\nAt length, with much of thought and care,\\nHe found a master for his heir 5\\nA learned man, adroit to speak\\nPure Latin, and your Attic Greek\\nWell known in all the courts of fame,\\nAnd Criticism was his name.\\nBeneath a tutor keen and fine as\\nOr Aristotle, or Longinus,\\nBeneath a lynx s eye, that saw\\nThe slightest literary flaw,\\nYoung Genius trod the path of knowledge.\\nAnd grew the wonder of the college.\\nOld authors were his bosom friends\\nHe had them at his fingers ends\\nBecame an accurate imitator\\nOf truth, propriety, and nature 5\\nDisplay d in every just remark\\nThe strong sagacity of Clark\\nAnd pointed out the false and true\\nWith all the sun -beams of Bossu.\\nBut though this critic-sage refined\\nHis pupil s intellectual mind,", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 1 rvi\\nAnd gave him all that keen discerning\\nWhich marks the character of learning\\nYet, as he read with much of glee\\nThe trifles of antiquity 5\\nAnd, Bentlj-like, would write epistles\\nAbout the origin of whistles\\nThe scholar took his master s trim,\\nAnd grew identically him\\nEmploy d a world of pains to teach us\\nWhat nation first invented breeches\\nAsserted that the Roman socks\\nWere broider d with a pair of clocks\\nThat Capua served up with her victuals\\nAn olio of Venafran pickles\\nThat Sisygambis dress d in blue,\\nAnd wore her tresses in a queue.\\nIn short, he knew what Paulus Jovius,\\nSalmasius, Graevius, and Gronovius,\\nHave said in fifty folio volumes,\\nPrinted by Elzevir in columns.\\nApollo saw, with pride and joy,\\nThe vast improvement of his boy\\nBut yet had more than slight suspicion,\\nThat all this load of erudition\\nMight overlay his parts at once,\\nAnd turn him out a letter d dunce.\\nHe saw the lad had fill d his sense\\nWith things of little consequence\\nThat though he read, with application,\\nThe wits of every age and nation,\\nAnd could, with nice precision, reach\\nThe boldest metaphors of speech\\nYet warp d too much, in truth s defiance.\\nFrom real to fictitious science,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "VTA BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nHe was, with all his pride and parts,\\nA mere mechanic in the arts,\\nThat measures with a rule and line\\nWhat nature meant for great and fine.\\nPhoebus, who saw it right and wise was\\nTo counteract this fatal bias,\\nfook home his son with mighty haste,\\nAnd sent him to the school of Taste.\\nThis school was built by wealth and peace,\\nSome ages since, in elder Greece,\\nJust when the Stagy rite had writ\\nHis lectures on the powers of wit.\\nHere, flush d in all the bloom of youth*\\nSat beauty in the shrine of truth.\\nHere, all the finer arts were seen,\\nAssembled round their virgin queen.\\nHere, sculpture, on a bolder plan,\\nEnnobled marble into man.\\nHere, music, with a soul on fire,\\nImpassion d, breathed along the lyre;\\nAnd here, the painter-muse display d\\nDiviner forms of light and shade.\\nBut, such the fate, as Hesiod sings,\\nOf all our sublunary things,\\nWhen now the Turk, with, sword and halters,\\nHad drove Religion from her altars,\\nAnd deluged, with a sea of blood,\\nThe academic dome and wood\\nAffrighted Taste, with wings unfurl d,\\nTook refuge in the western world\\nAnd settled on the Tuscan main,\\nWith all the muses in bis train.", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 175\\nIn this calm scene, where Taste withdrew.\\nAnd Science trimm d her lamp anew\\nYoung Genius ranged in every part\\nThe visionary worlds of art,\\nAnd from their finish d forms refined\\nHis own congenial warmth of mind,\\nAnd learned, with happy skill, to trace\\nThe magic powers of ease and grace.\\nHis style grew delicately fine,\\nHis numbers flow d along his line,\\nHis periods many, full, and strong,\\nHad all the harmony of song.\\nWhene er his images betray d\\nToo strong a light, too weak a shade,\\nOr in the graceful and the grand\\nConfess d inelegance of hand,\\nHis noble master, who could spy\\nThe slightest fault with half an eye.\\nSet right, by one ethereal touch,\\nWhat seem d too little or too much;\\nTill every attitude and air\\nArose supremely full and fair.\\nGenius was now, among his betters.\\nDistinguished as a man of letters.\\nThere wanted still, to make him please.\\nThe splendor of address and eaee,\\nTh^ soul-enchanting mien and air,\\nSuch as we see in Grosvenor-Square,\\nWhen Lidy Charlotte speaks and moves.\\nAttended by a swarm of loves.\\nGenius had got. to say the truth,\\nA manuer awkward and unconth", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "176 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nSure fate of all who love to dwell\\nIn wisdom s solitary cell\\nSo much a clown in gait and laugh,\\nHe wanted but a scrip and staff;\\nAnd such a beard as hung in candles\\nDown to Diogenes s sandals,\\nAnd planted all his chin \u00e2\u0082\u00ac|uite thick,\\nTo be like him a dirty cynic.\\nApollo, who, to do him right,\\nWas always perfectly polite,\\nChagrin d to see his son and heir\\nDishonor d by his gape and stare,\\nResolved to send him to Versailles,\\nTo learn a minuet of Marseilles\\nBut Venus, who had deeper reading\\nIn all the mysteries of breeding,\\nObserved to Phcebus, that the name\\nOf fop and Frenchman was the same.\\nFrench manners, were, she said, a thing which\\nThose grave misguided fools, the English,\\nHad, in despite of common sense,\\nMistook for manly excellence\\nBy which their nation strangely sunk is,\\nAnd half their nobles turned to monkies.\\nShe thought it better, as the case was,\\nTo send young Genius to the graces\\nThose sweet divinities, she said,\\nWould form him in the myrtle shade\\nAnd teach him more, in half an hour,\\nThan Lewis or his Pompadour.\\nPhcebus agreed the graces took\\nTheir noble pupil from his book.", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, ITT\\nAllow d him at their side to rove\\nAlong their own domestic grove,\\nAmidst the sound of melting lyres,\\nSoft-wreathing smiles, and young desires\\nAnd when confined by winds or showers\\nWithin their amaranthine bowers,\\nThey taught him with address and skill\\nTo shine at ombre and quadrille\\nOr let him read an ode or play,\\nTo wing the gloomy hour away.\\nGenius was charm d divinely placed\\nMidst beauty, wit, politeness, taste\\nAnd, having every hour before him\\nThe finest models of decorum,\\nHis manners took a fairer ply 5\\nExpression kindled in his eye\\nHis gesture, disengaged, and clean,\\nSet off a fine majestic meinj\\nAnd gave his happy power to please\\nThe noblest elegance of ease.\\nThus, by the discipline of art,\\nGenius shone out in head and heart.\\nFornvd from his first fair bloom of youth.\\nBy Temperance and her sister Truth,\\nHe knew the scientific page\\nOf every clime and every age\\nAnd learn d with critic -skill to rein\\nThe wildness of his native vein\\nThat critic-skill, though cool and chaste,\\nRefined beneath the eye of Taste\\nHis unforbidding mien and air,\\nHis awkward gait, his haughty stare,\\nQ", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "178 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd every stain that wit debases,\\nWere melted off among the graces\\nAnd Genius rose, in form and mind,\\nThe first, the greatest of mankind.\\nNOBILITY.\\nA MORAL ESSAY.\\nBY MR. CAWTHORN.\\nTlS said that ere fair virtue learn M to sigh,\\nThe crest to libel, and the star to lie,\\nThe poet glow d with all his sacred fire,\\nAnd bade each virtue live along the lyre\\nLed humble science to the blest abode,\\nAnd raised the hero till he shone a god.\\nOur modern bards, by some unhappy fate,\\nCondemn d to flatter every fool of state,\\nHave oft, regardless of their heaven-born flame,\\nEnthroned proud greatness in the shrine of fame\\nBestow d on vice the wreaths that virtue wove,\\nAnd paid to Nero what was due to Jove.\\nYet hear, ye great i whom birth and titles crown\\nWith alien worth, and glories not your own\\nHear me affirm, that all the vain can show,\\nAll Anstis boasts of, and all kings bestow,\\nAll envy wishes, all ambition hails,\\nAll that supports St. James s, and Versailles,", "height": "3000", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 1*9\\nCan never give distinction to a knave,\\nOr make a lord whom vice lias made a slave.\\nIn elder times, ere heralds jet enroll d\\nThe bleeding ruby in a field of gold,\\nOr infant language pain d the tender ear\\nWith sess, bend, argent, chev ron, and saltier 5\\n*Twas he alone the bay s bright verdure wore,\\nWhose strength subdued the lion or the boar 5\\nWhose art from rocks could call the mellowing grain,\\nAnd give the vine to laugh along the plain\\nOr, tracing nature in her moral plan,\\nExplored the savage till he found the man.\\nFor him the rustic hind, and village maid,\\nStripp d the gay spring of half its bloom and shade\\nWith annual dances graced the daisy -mead,\\nAnd sung his triumphs on the oaten reed\\nOr, fond to think him sprung from yonder sky,\\nRear d the turf fane, and bade the victim die.\\nIn Turkey, sacred as the Koran s page,\\nThese simple manners live through every age\\nThe humblest swain, if virtue warms the man,\\nMay rise the genius of the grave Divan\\nAnd all but Othman*s race, the only proud,\\nFull with their sires, and mingle with the crowd.\\nFor three campaigns Kaprouli s hand display d\\nThe Turkish crescent on thy walls, Belgrade\\nImperial Egypt own d him for her lord,\\nAnd Austria trembled if he touclvd the sword\\nYet all his glories set within his grave,\\nOne son a janizary, one a slave.\\nPoliter courts, ingenious to extend\\nThe father s glories, bid his pomp descend", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "180 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWith strange good nature give his worthless son\\nThe very laurels that his virtue won\\nAnd. with the same appellatives adorn\\nA living hero, and a sot unborn.\\nHence, without blushing, (say whate er we can)\\nWe more regard th escutcheon than the man\\nYet, true to nature and her instincts, prize\\nThe hound or spaniel as his talent lies\\nCareless from what paternal blood he rose,\\nWe value Bowman only for his nose.\\nSay, should you see a generous steed outflv\\nThe swiftest zephyr of th autumnal sky,\\nWould you at once his ardent wishes kill,\\nGive him the dogs, or chain him to a mill,\\nBecause his humbler fathers, grave and slow,\\nClean d half the Jakes of Houndsditch or Soho\\nIn spite of all that in his grandsire shone,\\nAn horse s worth is, like a king s, his own.\\nIf m the race, when lengthening shouts inspire\\nHis bold compeers, and set their hearts on fire,\\nHe seems regardless of th exulting sound,\\nAnd scarcely drags his legs along the ground\\nWhat will t avail that, sprung from heavenly seed,\\nHis great forefathers swept th Arabian mead\\nOr, dress d in half an empire s purple, bore\\nxhe weight of Xerxes on the Caspian shore\\nI grant, my lord your ancestors outshine\\nAll that e er graced the Ganges, or the Rhine\\n-orn to protect, to rouse those godlike fires\\nI .iat genius kindles, or fair fame inspires\\nO er humble life to spread indulgent ease\\nJo give the veins to flow without disease", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 181\\nFrom proud oppression injured worth to screen,\\nAnd shake alike the senate and the scene.\\nAnd see, to save them from the wrecks of age,\\nExulting science fills her every page,\\nFame grasps her trump, the epic Muse attends,\\nThe lyre re-echoes and the song ascends,\\nThe sculptor s chissel with the pencil vies,\\nRocks leap, and animated marbles rise\\nAll arts, all powers, the virtuous chiefs ador%\\nAnd spread their pomps to ages yet unborn.\\nAll this we own\u00e2\u0080\u0094 but if, amidst the shine,\\nTh enormous blaze that beams along the line,\\nSome scoundrel peer, regardless of his sires.\\nPursues each folly, and each vice admires\\nShall we enrol his prostituted name\\nIn honor s zenith, and the lists of fame\\nExalted titles, like a beacon, rise\\nTo tell the wretched where protection lies.\\nHe then who hears unmoved affliction s cry,\\nHis birth s a phantom, and his name s a lie.\\nTh Egyptians thus, on Cairo s sacred plain,\\nSaw half their marbles move into a fane\\nThe glorious work unnumber d artists ply,\\nNow turn the dome, now lift it to the sky\\nBut when they enter d the sublime abode,\\nThey found a serpent where they hoped a god.\\nAnstis observes, that when a thousand years\\nRoll through a race of princes, or of peers,\\nObliging virtue sheds her every beam\\nFrom son to son, and waits upon the stream.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "182 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nYet say, ye great who boast another s scars,\\nAnd think your lineage ends but in the stars,\\nWhat is this boon of Heaven Dependent still\\nOn woman s weakness, and on woman s will 5\\nDare ye affirm that no exotic blood\\nHas stain d your glories ever since the Flood\\nMight not some brawny slave, from Afric fled,\\nStamp his base image in the nuptial bed\\nMight not, in Pagan days, your mothers prove\\nThe fire of Phoebus, and the strength of Jove\\nOr, more politely to their vows untrue,\\nLove, and elope, as modern ladies do\\nBut, grant that all your gentle grandames shone\\nClear, and unsullied as the noon -day sun 5\\nThough Nature form d them of her chastest mold,\\nSay, was their birth illustrious as their gold\\nFull many a lord, we know, has chose to range\\nAmong the wealthy beauties of the Change 3\\nOr sigh d, still humbler, to the midnight gale\\nFor some fair peasant of th Arcadian vale.\\nThen blame us not, if backward to adore\\nA name polluted by a slave or whore\\nSince, spite of patents, and of kings decrees,\\nAnd blooming coronets on parchment trees,\\nSome alien stain may darken all the line,\\n.And Norfolk s blood descend as mean as mine.\\nYou boast, my lord a race with laurels crown d,\\nOy senates honor d, and in wars renown d 5\\nShow then the martial sound to danger bred,\\nWhen Poictiers thunder d, and when Cressy bled\\nShow us those deeds, those heaven-directed fires,\\nThat ages past saw beaming on your sires,", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 183\\nThat freeborn pride no tyrant durst enslave?\\nThat godlike zeal that only lived to save.\\nDare you, though faction bawl through all her tribe.\\nThough monarchs threaten, and though statesmen bribe.\\nFeel for mankind, and gallantly approve\\nAll virtue teaches, and all angels love\\nKnow you the tear that flows o er worth distressed,\\nThe joy that rises when a people s blest\\nThen, if you please, immortalize your line,\\nWith all that s great, heroic, and divine\\nExplore with curious eye th historic page,\\nThe rolls of fame, the monuments of age\\nAdopt each chief immortal Homer sings,\\nAll Greece s heroes, and all Asia s kings\\nIf earth s too scanty, search the blest abode,\\nAnd make your first progenitor a god\\nWe grant your claim, whate er you wish to prove.\\nThe son of Priam, or the son of Jove.\\nStatesmen and patriots thus to glory rise,\\nThe self-born sun that gilds them never dies\\nWhile he ennobled by those gewgaw things,\\nThe pride of patents, and the breath of kings,\\nGlares the pale meteor of a little hour,\\nFed by court sunshine, and poetic shower\\nThen sinks at once, unpitied and unbless d,\\nA nation s scandal, and a nation s jest.\\nNobility had something in her blood,\\nWhen to be great was only to be good\\nSublime she sat in virtue s sacred fane,\\nWith all the sister graces in her train.\\nShe still exists, tis true, in Grosvenor-Squaro.\\nAnd leads a life, a kind of\u00e2\u0080\u0094 as it were", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "184 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd see self-shelter d from the world s alarm*,\\nThe dying goddess sleeps in Fortune s arms\\nFrom luxury attends her soft retreats,\\nThe modest Frazi warbles while she eats\\nArabia s sweets distil at every pore,\\nHer flatterers soothe her, and her slaves adore 5\\nIndulged by all our senates to forget\\nThose worst of plagues, a promise and a debt.\\nNot but there are, amidst the titled crew,\\nUnknown to all but Collins, and the stew,\\nMen who improve their heaven-descended fires.,\\nRise on their blood, and beam upon their sires\\nMen who, like diamonds from Golconda s mine,\\nCall from themselves the ray that makes them shine.\\nPleased let me view a Cecil s soul array d\\nWith all that Plato gather d in the shade\\nReflect how nobly Radnor can descend\\nTo lose his title in the name of friend\\nAt Dorset look, and bid Hibernia own\\nHer viceroy form d to sit upon a throne\\nAdmire how innocence can lend to truth\\nEach grace of virtue, and each charm of youth,\\nAnd then enraptured bend the suppliant knee\\nTo Heaven s high throne, O Rockingham for thee.\\nLet then vain fools their proud escutcheons view,\\nAllied to half the Incas of Peru\\nWith every vice those lineal glories stain\\nThat rose in Pharamond, or Charlemagne\\nBut ye, dear youths J whom chance of genius calls\\nTo court pale wisdom in these hallow d walls,\\nScorn ye to hang upon a blasted name,\\nAnother s virtue, and another s fame", "height": "3015", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 185\\nIn two short precepts all jour business lies\\nWould you be great be virtuous, and be wise.\\nODE TO HEALTH.\\nBY MR. DUNCOMBE.\\nJVon est vivere, sed valere vita.\\nHEALTH to thee thy votary owes\\nAll the blessings life bestows,\\nAll the sweets the summer yields,\\nMelodious woods, and clover d fields\\nBy thee he tastes the calm delights\\nOf studious days and peaceful nights\\nBy thee his eye each scene with rapture views\\nThe Muse shall sing thy gifts, for they inspire the Muse.\\nDoes increase of wealth impart\\nTransports to a bounteous heart\\nDoes the sire with smiles survey\\nHis prattling children round him play\\nDoes love with mutual blushes streak\\nThe swain s and virgin s artless cheek\\ni From Health these blushes, smiles and transports\\nflow;\\nwealth, children, love itself, to Health their relish owe,\\nNymph, with thee, at early morn,\\nLet me brush the waving corn\\nAnd, at noontide s sultry hour,\\nbear me to the w r oodbine bower", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "186 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWhen evening lights her glow-worm, lead\\nTo yonder dew-enamell d mead\\nAnd let me range at night those glimmering groves.,\\nWhere stillness ever sleeps, and Contemplation roves.\\nThis my tributary lay\\nGrateful at thy shrine I pay,\\nWho, for seven whole years, hast shed\\nThy balmy blessings o er my head\\nO let me still enamor d view\\nThose fragrant lips of rosy hue,\\nNor think there needs th allay of sharp disease,\\nTo quicken thy repast, and give it power to please.\\nNow, by swiftest zephyrs drawn,\\nUrge thy chariot o er the lawn\\nIn yon gloomy grotto laid,\\nPalemon asks thy kindly aid\\nIf goodness can that aid engage,\\nO hover round the virtuous sage\\nNor let one sigh for his own suffering rise\\nEach human suffering fills his sympathizing eyes.\\nVenus from iEneas side\\nWith successful efforts tried\\nTo extract th envenom d dart\\nThat baffled wise lapis art,\\nIf thus, Hygeia, thou couldst prove\\nPropitious to the queen of love,\\nNow on thy favor d Heeerden bestow\\nTny choicest healing powers, for Pallas asks them no^\\nWhat, though banish d from the fight,\\nTo the hero s troubled sight\\nRanks on ranks tumultuous rose\\nOf flying friends and conquering foes", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 167\\nHe only panted to obtain\\nA laurel wreath for thousands slain\\nOn nobler views intent, the sage s mind\\nPants to delight, instruct, and humanize mankind\\nTHE HAMLET.\\nWritten in JVIiichwood Forest.\\nBY T. WARTON.\\nTHE hinds how blest, who ne er beguiled\\nTo quit their hamlet s hawthorn wild\\nNor haunt the crowd, nor tempt the main,\\nFor splendid care, and guilty gain\\nWhen morning s twilight-tinctured beam\\nstrikes their low thatch with slanting gleam,\\nThey rove abroad in ether blue,\\nTo dip the scythe in fragrant dew 5\\nThe sheaf to bind, the beech to fell,\\nThat nodding shades a craggy dell.\\nMidst gloomy glades, in warbles clear,\\n.Wild nature s sweetest notes they hear:\\nOn green untrodden banks they view\\nThe hyacinth s neglected hue\\nIn their lone haunts and woodland rounds\\nThey spy the squirrel s airy bounds;\\nj And startle from her ashen spray,\\nJ Across the glen, the screaming jay.\\nI Each native charm their steps explore\\nI Of solitude s sequester d store.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "188 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nFor them the moon, with cloudless ray.\\nMounts, to illume their homeward way\\nTheir weary spirits to relieve,\\nThe meadows incense breathe at eve.\\nNo riot mars the simple fare\\nThat o er a glimmering hearth they share\\nBut when the curfew s measured roar\\nDuly, the darkening valleys o er,\\nHas echoed from the distant town,\\nThey wish no beds of cygnet down,\\nNo trophied canopies, to close\\nTheir drooping eyes in quick repose.\\nTheir little sons, who spread the bloom\\nOf health around the clay -built room,\\nOr through the primrosed coppice stray,\\nOr gambol in the new-mown hay 5\\nOr quaintly braid the cowslip-twine,\\nOr drive afield the tardy kine\\nOr hasten from the sultry hill\\nTo loiter at the shady rill\\nOr climb the tall pine s gloomy crest\\nTo rob the raven s ancient nest.\\nTheir humble porch with honied flowers\\nThe curling woodbine s shade embowers\\nFrom the trim garden s thy my mound\\nTheir bees in busy swarms resound\\nNor fell Disease, before his time,\\nHastes to consume life s golden prime\\nBut when their temples long have wore\\nThe silver crown of tresses hoar,\\nAs studious still calm peace to keep.\\nBeneath a flowery turf they sleep.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OP POETRY. 189\\nODE TO EVENING.\\nBY DR. J. WARTON.\\nHAIL, meek-eyed maiden, clad in sober gray,\\nWhose soft approach the weary woodman loves 5\\nAs homeward bent, to kiss his prattling babes,\\nJocund, he whistles through the twilight groves.\\nWhen Phoebus sinks behind the gilded hills,\\nYou lightly o er the misty meadows walk,\\nThe drooping daisies bathe in dulcet dews,\\nAnd nurse the nodding violet s tender stalk.\\nThe panting Dryads, that, in day s fierce heat,\\nTo inmost bowers and cooling caverns ran,\\nReturn to trip in wanton evening dance\\nOld Sylvan too returns, and laughing Pan.\\nTo the deep wood the clamorous rooks repair,\\nLight skims the swallow o er the watery scene\\nAnd from the sheepcote and fresh-furrow d field,\\nStout plowmen meet to wrestle on the green.\\nThe swain that artless sings on yonder rock,\\nHis supping sheep and lengthening shadow spies.\\nPleased with the cool, the calm refreshing hour,\\nAnd with hoarse humming of unnumber d flies.\\nNow every passion sleeps desponding Love,\\nAnd pining Envy, ever restless Pride\\nAnd holy Calm creeps o er my peaceful soul,\\nAnger and mad Ambition s storms subside.\\nR", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "190 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nO modest Evening oft let me appear\\nA wandering votary in thy pensive train\\nListening to every wildly warbling note\\nThat fills with farewel sweet thy darkening plain.\\nTHE ENTHUSIAST.\\nJIN ODE,\\nBY MR. WHITEHEAD.\\nONCE, I remember well the day,\\n-Twas ere the blooming sweets of May\\nHad lost their freshest hues,\\nWhen every flower, on every hill,\\nIn every vale, had drank its fill\\nOf sunshine and of dews.\\nIn short, twas that sweet season s prime,\\nWhen Spring gives up the reins of time\\nTo Summer s glowing hand,\\nAnd doubting mortals hardly know\\nJ5y whose command the breezes blow\\nWhich fan the smiling land.\\nTwas then, beside a green-wood shade,\\nWhich clothed a lawn s aspiring head,\\nI urged my devious way,\\nWith loitering steps, regardless where.\\nSo soft, so genial was the air,\\nSo wondrous bright the day.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 191\\nAnd now my eyes with transport rove\\nO er all the blue expanse above,\\nUnbroken b}^ a cloud\\nAnd now beneath delighted pass\\nWhere, winding through the deep green grass,\\nA full-brimm d river flow d.\\nI stop, I gaze in accents rude,\\nTo thee, serenest Solitude,\\nBurst forth th unbidden lay\\nBegone, vile world, the learn d, the wise,\\nThe great, the busy, I despise,\\nu And pity ev n the gay.\\nThese, these are joys alone, I cry\\nTis here, divine Philosophy,\\nThou deign st to fix thy throne\\nHere Contemplation points the road\\nThrough Nature s charms to Nature s God i\\nThese, these are joys alone\\nAdieu, ye vain low-thoughted cares,\\nYe human hopes, and human fears,\\nYe pleasures, and ye pains\\nWhile thus I spake, o er all my soul\\nA philosophic calmness stole,\\nA stoic stillness reigns.\\nThe tyrant passions all subside\\nFear, anger, pity, shame, and pride,\\nNo more my bosom move\\nYet still I felt, or seem d to feel.\\nA kind of visionary zeal\\nOf universal love.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "188 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWhen lo a voice, a voice I hear\\nTwas Reason whisper d in my ear\\nThese monitory strains\\nWhat mean st thou, man wouldst tliou unbind\\nThe ties which constitute thy kind,\\nThe pleasures and the pains\\nThe same Almighty Power unseen,\\nWho spreads the gay or solemn scene\\nw To Contemplation s eye,\\nFix d every movement of the soul,\\nTaught every wish its destined goal,.\\nw And quicken d every joy.\\nHe bids the tyrant passions rage,\\nHe bids them war eternal wage,\\nAnd combat each his foe\\nTill from dissensions concords rise.\\nAnd beauties from deformities,\\nAnd happiness from woe.\\nArt thou not man, and darest thou find\\nA bliss which leans not to mankind\\nPresumptuous thought and vain\\nEach bliss unshared is unenjoy d,\\nEach power is weak, unless employed\\nu Some social good to gain.\\n4; Shall light, and shade, and warmth, and air.\\nWith those exalted joys compare\\nWhich active virtue feels\\nWhen on she drags, as lawful prize,\\nContempt, and Indolence, and Vice,\\nAt her triumphant wheels", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 193\\nAs rest to labor still succeeds\\nTo man, whilst Virtue s glorious deeds\\nEmploy his toilsome day\\nc This fair variety of things\\nAre merely life s refreshing springs,\\nTo soothe him on his way.\\nu Enthusiast go, unstring thy lyre,\\nIn vain thou sing st, if none admire,\\nHow sweet soe er the strain.\\nAnd is not thy o erflowing mind,\\nu Unless thou mixest with thy kind,\\nBenevolent in vain\\nEnthusiast go, try every sense,\\nIf not thy bliss, thy excellence,\\nThou yet hast learn d to scan 5\\nAt least thy wants, thy weakness know,\\nM And see them all uniting show\\n4i That man was made for man.\\nTHE HERMIT.\\nA BALLAD.\\nBY OLIVER GOLDSMITH, M. B.\\nTURN, gentle hermit of the dale,\\nAnd guide my lonely way,\\nTo where yon taper cheers the vale,\\nWith hospitable ray.\\nR 2", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "194 BEAUTIES OP POETRY.\\nFor here, forlorn and lost, I tread,\\nWith fainting steps and slow\\nWhere wilds, immeasurably spread.\\nSeem lengthening as I go.\\nForbear, my son, the hermit cries*\\nu To tempt the dangerous gloom 5\\nFor yonder phantom only flies\\nTo lure thee to thy doom.\\nrt Here, to the houseless child of want,\\nMy door is open still 5\\nAnd though my portion is but scant,\\nI give it with good will.\\nThen turn to-night, and freely share\\nWhate er my cell bestows\\nMy rushy couch, and frugal fare 5\\nMy blessing and repose.\\nNo flocks that range the valley free\\nTo slaughter I condemn\\ni! Taught by that Power that pities tue,\\nI learn to pity them.\\ni; But, from the mountain s grassy side,\\nA guiltless feast I bring;\\nA scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,\\nrt And water from the spring.\\nThen, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego\\nFor earth-born cares are wrong;\\nMan wants but little here below,\\nNor wants that little long.\\nSbft as the dew from heaven descendsj\\nJfis gentle accents fell", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 19?\\nThe modest stranger lowly bends,\\nAnd follows to the cell.\\nFar in a wilderness obscure\\nThe lonely mansion lay\\nA refuge to the neighboring poor,\\nAnd strangers led astray.\\nNo stores beneath his humble thatch\\nRequired a master s care\\nThe wicket, opening with a latch,\\nReceived the harmless pair.\\nAnd now, when busy crowds retire\\nTo revels or to rest,\\nThe hermit trimm d his little fire,\\nAnd cheer d his pensive guest\\nAnd spread his vegetable store\\nAnd gaily press d, and smiled\\nAnd, skill d in legendary lore,\\nThe lingering hours beguiled.\\nAround, in sympathetic mirth,\\nIts tricks the kitten tries\\nThe cricket chirrups on the hearth\\nThe crackling faggot flies.\\nBut nothing could a charm impart\\nTo soothe the stranger s woe\\nFor grief was heavy at his heart,\\nAnd tears began to flow.\\nHis rising cares the hermit spied,\\nWith answering cares oppress d\\nAnd whence, unhappy youth he criejj.\\nThe sorrows of thy breast", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "19 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nFrom better habitations spurn d,\\nReluctant dost thou rove\\nOr grieve for friendship unreturn d,\\nOr unregarded love\\nAlas the joys that fortune brings,\\nAre trifling, and decay;\\nAnd those who prize the paltry things.\\nMore trifling still than they.\\nAnd what is friendship but a name,\\nw A charm that lulls to sleep\\nA shade that follows wealth or fame*\\nBut leaves the wretch to weep\\nAnd love is still an emptier sound,\\nThe modern fair one s jest 5\\nOn earth unseen, or only found\\nTo warm the turtle s nest.\\nFor shame, fond youth thy sorrows hush,\\nAnd spurn the sex, he said\\nBut while he spoke, a rising blush\\nHis love-lorn guest betray d.\\nSurprized he sees new beauties rise,\\nSwift mantling to the view\\nLike colors o er the morning skies,\\nAs bright, as transient too.\\nThe bashful look, the rising breast,\\nAlternate spread alarms\\nThe lovely stranger stands confess d\\nA maid in all her charms.\\ni; And, ah forgive a stranger rude,\\nA wretch forlorn, she cried", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 197\\nWhose feet unhallow d thus intrude\\na Where heaven and you reside.\\nBut let a maid thy pity share,\\nWhom love has taught to stray\\nWho seeks for rest, but finds despair\\nCompanion of her way.\\nMy father lived beside the Tyne,\\nA wealthy lord was he 5\\nAnd all his wealth was mark d as mine\\nHe had but only me.\\nTo win me from his tender arms,\\nUnnumber d suitors came\\nWho praised me for imputed charms,\\nAnd felt or feign d a flame.\\nEach hour the mercenary crowd,\\nW T ith richest presents strove\\nAmong the rest, young Edwin bow d,\\nBut never talkM of love.\\nIn humble, simplest habit clad,\\nNo wealth nor power had he\\nWisdom and worth were all he had,\\nBut these were all to me.\\nThe blossom opening to the day,\\nThe dews of heaven refined,\\nCould nought of purity display,\\nIf To emulate his mind.\\nThe dew, the blossom on the tree,\\n6 With charms inconstant shine\\nTheir charms were his, but, woe is inc.\\nTheir constancy was mine.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "J 98 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nFor still I tried each fickle art,\\nImportunate and vain\\nAnd while his passion touch d my heart.\\nI triumph d in his pain.\\nTill quite dejected with my scorn,\\nHe left me to my pride\\nAnd sought a solitude forlorn,\\nIn secret where he died.\\nk But mine the sorrow, mine the fault..\\nAnd well my life shall pay\\nI ll seek the solitude he sought,\\nAnd stretch me where he lay.\\nAnd there forlorn, despairing, hid,\\nI ll lay me down and die\\nTwas so for me that Edwin did,\\nAnd so for him will I.\\nForbid it, Heaven the hermit cried,\\nAnd clasp d her to his breast\\nThe wondering fair one turn d to chide;\\nTwas Edwin s self that press d.\\nTurn, Angelina, ever dear,\\nMy charmer, turn to see\\nThy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,\\nRestored to love and thee.\\nThus let me hold thee to my heart,\\nAnd every care resign\\nAnd shall we never, never part,\\nMy life my all that s mine\\nNo, never from this hour to part,\\nWe ll live and love so true,\\ni; The sigh that rends thy constant heart.\\nShall break thy Edwin s too.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 199\\nHYMN OK SOLITUDE.\\nBY JAMES THOMSON.\\nHAIL, mildly pleasing Solitude,\\nCompanion of the wise and good:\\nBut from whose holy piercing eye\\nThe herd of fools and villains fly.\\nOh how I love with thee to walk,\\nAnd listen to thy whisper d talk,\\nWhich innocence and truth imparts,\\nAnd melts the most obdurate hearts.\\nA thousand shapes you wear with ease.\\nAnd still in every shape you please.\\nNow, wrapp d in some mysterious dream,\\nA lone philosopher you seem\\nNow quick from hill to vale you fly,\\nAnd now you sweep the vaulted sky.\\nA shepherd next you haunt the plain,\\nAnd warble forth your oaten strain,\\nA lover now, with all the grace\\nOf that sweet passion in your face\\nThen, calm d to friendship, you assume\\nThe geucle-looking Hartford s bloom,\\nAs, with her Musidora, she\\n(Her Musidora r ond of thee)\\nAmid the long withdrawing vale,\\nAwakes the rivall d nightingale.\\nThine is the balmy breath of morn,\\nJust as the dew-bent rose is born", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a390 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd while meridian fervors beat,\\nThine is the woodland dumb retreat\\nBut chief, when evening scenes decay,\\nAnd the faint landscape swims away,\\nThine is the doubtful soft decline,\\nAnd that best hour of musing thine.\\nDescending angels bless thy train,\\nThe virtues of the sage and swain\\nPlain innocence, in white array d,\\nBefore thee lifts her fearless head\\nReligion s beams around thee shine,\\nAnd cheer thy glooms with light divine\\nAbout thee sports sweet Liberty\\nAnd rapt Urania sings to thee.\\nOh, let me pierce thy secret cell\\nAnd in thy deep recesses dwell.\\nPerhaps from Norwood s oak-clad hill,\\nWhen meditation has her fill,\\nI just may cast my careless eyes\\nWhere London s spiry turrets rise\\nThink of its crimes, its cares, its pain.\\nThen shield me in the woods again.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 201\\nTHE COTTEJVS(X) SATUEDAF NIGHT.\\nINSCRIBED TO R. A****, ESQ.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nLet not Ambition mock their useful toil,\\nTheir homely joys, and destiny obscure\\nr Nor Grandeur hear, with a disdainful smile,\\nThe short and simple annals of the pooi.\\nGkai\\nI,\\nMY loved, my honor d, much respected friend\\nNo mercenary bard his homage pays 5\\nWith honest pride, I scorn each selfish end,\\nMy dearest meed, a friend s esteem and praise\\n*Fo you I sing, in simple Scottish lays,\\nThe lowly train in life s sequester d scene 5\\nThe native feelings strong, the guileless ways-;\\nWhat A**** in a cottage would have been\\nAh though his worth unknown, far happier there, I\\nween I\\nII.\\nNovember chill blaws(2) loud wi (3) angry sugh:(4)\\nThe shortening winter-day is near a close\\nThe miry beasts retreating frae(5) the plew :(6)\\nThe blackening trains o (7) cra\\\\vs(8) to their repose\\nThe toil-worn Cotter frae his labor goes.\\nThis night his weekly moil (9) is at an end,\\n(1) The inhabitant of a cot-house or cottage. (2) Blows.\\n(3) With. (4) The continued rushing noise of wind or wufcV\\n(5) From. (6) Plow. (7) Of. (8) Crows. (9) Labor.\\nS", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "02 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nCollects his spades, his mattocks, and his hoes.\\nHoping the morn in ease and rest to spend,\\nAnd wear j, o er the moor, his course does hameward (1)\\nbend.\\nIII.\\nAt length his lonely cot appears in view,\\nBeneath the shelter of an aged tree\\nTh expectant wee-things 9 (2J todlin,(3) stacher(4)\\nthrough\\nTo meet their dad, wi flichterin(o) noise an (6) glee.\\nHis wee bit(7) ingle(8) blinkin(9) bonnily,(10)\\nHis clean hearth-stane,( 11) his thriftie wijie s(\\\\9.)\\nsmile,\\nThe lisping infant prattling on his knee,\\nDoes a (13) his weary carking cares beguile,\\nAn makes him quite forget his labor an his toil.\\nIV.\\nBelyve(l4) the elder bairns(15) come drapping(16) in.\\nAt service out amang(17) the farmers roun ;(18)\\nSome ca (19) the plew, some herd, (20) some tentie(21)\\nrin(22)\\nA cannie(23) errand to a neebor(24) town\\nTheir eldest hope, their Jenny, woman grown,\\nIn youthfu (25) bloom, love sparkling in her e e,(26)\\nComes hame,(27) perhaps to show a braw(28) new gown\\n(I) Homeward. (2) Little ones. (3) Tottering.\\n(4) Stagger. (5) Fluttering. (6) And. (7) A small matter*\\n(8) A fire, or fire-place. (9) Smirking. (10) Beautifully.\\n(II) Hearth-stone. (12) An endearing term for -wife.\\n(13) All. (14) By und by. (15) Children. (16) Dropping.\\n(17) Among. (18) Around, in the circle of the neighborhood. 4\\n(19) Drive. (20) To tend flocks. (21) Heedful, cautious.\\n(22) Run. (23) Gentle, mild, dexterous. (24) Neighbor.\\n.25) Youthful. (26) Eye. (27) Home. (28) Fine, handromr", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. m\\nOr deposite her sair-won(l) penny fee,\\nTo help her parents dear, if they in hardship be.\\nV.\\nWi joy unfeign d brothers and sisters meet,\\nAir each for other s weelfare(2) kindly speirs:(3;\\nThe social hours, swift-wing d, unnoticed fleet\\nEach tells the uncos (4) that he sees or hears\\nThe parents, partial, eye their hopeful years j\\nAnticipation forward points the view.\\nThe mother, wi her needle an her sheers,\\nGars (5) auld(6) claes(7) look amaist(8) as weel s(9)\\nthe new\\nThe father mixes a wi admonition due.\\nVI.\\nTheir masters an their mistresses command,\\nThe younkers a are warned to obey\\nAn mind their labors wi an eydent(lO) hand,\\nAn ne er, though out o sight, to jauk(ll) or play:\\niJ An be sure to fear the Lord alway\\nAn mind your duty, duly, morn an night\\nLest in temptation s paths ye gang(12) astray,\\nImplore his counsel and assisting might;\\nThey never sought in vain, that sought the Lorn:\\naright.\\nVIL\\nBut hark a rap comes gently to the door\\nJenny, wha(13) kens(14) the meaning o the same.\\nTells how a neebor lad cam (15) o er the moor.\\nTo do some errands, and convoy her hame.\\n(1) Service-won. (2) Welfare. (3) Inquires. (4) KeTTs.\\n(5) Makes. (6) Old. (7) Clothes. (8) Almost. (9) Wetf.\\n(101 Diligent. (11) To daily, to trifle. (12) To go, to wulSr.\\n(13) Who. (14) Knows. (15) Cawe.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a304 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThe wily mother sees the conscious flame\\nSparkle in Jenny s e e, and flush her cheek\\nWith heart-struck, anxious care, inquires his name,\\nWhile Jenny hafflins(t) is afraid to speak\\nWeel pleased the mother hears, it s nae(2) wild, worth-\\nless rake.\\nVIII.\\nWi kindly welcome Jenny brings him ben ;(3)\\nA strappan(4) youth he takes the mother s eye;\\nBlithe Jenny sees the visit s no ill ta en\\nThe father cracks(o) of horses, plews, and kye.(6)\\nThe youngster s artless heart o erflows wi joy,\\nBut, blate and laithfu ,(7) scarce can weel behave j\\nThe mother, wi a woman s wiles, can spy\\nWhat makes the youth sae(8) bashfu (9) and sae grave\\nWeel pleased to think her bairn s respected like ilte\\nlave. (10)\\nIX.\\nO happy love where love like this is found\\nheart-felt raptures bliss beyond compare I\\nI ve paced much this weary, mortal round,\\nAnd sage Experience bids me this declare\\nIf Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare\\nOne cordial in this melancholy vale,\\nTis when a youthful, loving, modest pair,\\nIn other s arms breathe out the tender tale,\\nBeneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening\\nsale.\\n(1) Nearly half, partly. (2) No. (3) Into the spcnce or parlor.\\nf4 Tall and handsome. 5*\\\\ Converses. (6 Cows.\\n4) Tall and handsome. (5) Converses. (6) Cows.\\nBashful, sheepish. (8) So. (9) Basl\\nThe rest, the remainder, the others.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. \u00c2\u00a305\\nX.\\nIs there, in human form, that bears a heart\\nA wretch a villain lost to love and truth\\nThat can, with studied, sly, ensnaring art,\\nBetray sweet Jenny^s unsuspecting youth\\nCurse on his perjured arts dissembling smooth\\nAre honor, virtue, conscience, all exiled\\nIs there no pity, no relenting ruth,\\nPoints to the parents fondling o er their child\\nThen paints the ruin d maid, and their distraction wild\\nXI.\\nBut now the supper crowns their simple board,\\nThe healsome(l) parritch(2J chief o Scotia s food\\nThe soupe(3) their only Haivkief4J does afford,\\nThat yont(5) the hallan(6) snugly chows(7) hev\\ncood :(8)\\nThe dame brings forth, in complimentai mood,\\nTo grace the lad, her weel-hain d(9) kebbuck,(10)\\nfell.(ll)\\nAir aft (12) he s press d, an aft he ca s(13) it guid ;(14)\\nThe frugal wifie, garrulous, will tell,\\nHow twas a towmond(la) auld, sin (l6) lint(17) was\\ni (18) the bell.(19)\\nXII.\\nThe cheerfu (20) supper done, wr serious face,\\nThey round the ingle form a circle wide\\n(1) Healthful, wholesome.\\n(2) Oatmeal pudding, a well-known Scotch dish.\\n(3) A spoonful, a small quantity of any thing liquid.\\n(4) A cow property, one -with a -white face. (5) Beyond.\\n(6) A particular partition wall in a cottage. (7) Chews.\\n(8) Cud. (9) Well-spared. (10) A cheese. (11) Keen, biting.\\n(12) Oft. (13) Calls. 14) Good. (15) Twelvemonth.\\n(16) Since. (17) Fla*. (18) In. (19J Flower. (20) Cheerful.\\n3", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "206 J3EAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThe sire turns ever, wi patriarchal grace,\\nThe big ha -Bible 9 1 ance(2) his father s pride:\\nHis bonnet reverently is laid aside,\\nHis lyart(S) haffets(4) wearing thin an bare\\nThose strains that once did sweet in Zion glide,\\nHe wales (5) a portion with judicious care\\nAnd Let us worship God he says, with solemi?\\nair.\\nXIII.\\nThey chant their artless notes in simple guise\\nThey tune their hearts, by far the noblest aim\\nPerhaps Dundee s wild warbling measures rise,\\nOr plaintive Martyr s, worthy of the name 5\\nOr noble Elgin beets(6) the heaven-ward flame,\\nThe sweetest far of Scotia s holy lays\\nCompared with these, Italian trills are tame\\nThe tickled ears no heart -felt raptures raise\\nXae unison hae(7) they with our Creator s praise\\nXIV.\\nThe priest-like father reads the sacred page,\\nHow Abram was the Friend of God on high 5\\nOr, Moses bad (8) eternal warfare wage\\nWith Jlmalek s ungracious progeny 5\\nOr how the royal bard did groaning lie\\nBeneath the stroke of Heaven s avenging ire j\\nOr Job s pathetic plaint, and wailing cry 5\\nOr rapt Isaiah s wild, seraphic fire 5\\nOr other holy seers that tune the sacred lyre.\\n(1) Hall-Bible. (2) Once. (3) Of a mixed color, gray.\\n(4) The temples, the sides of the head. (5) Chooses.\\n(6) Add^s fuel to the fir* (7) Have. (8) Did bid.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 207\\nXV.\\nPerhaps the Christian Volume is the theme,\\nHow guiltless blood for guilty man was shed\\nHow He, who bore in Heaven the second name,\\nHad not on earth whereon to lay his head\\nHow his first followers and servants sped\\nThe precepts sage they wrote to many a land\\nHow he, who lone in Patmos banished,\\nSaw in the sun a mighty angel stand\\nAnd heard great Babylon- s doom pronounced by Heav-\\nen s command.\\nXVI.\\nThen, kneeling down to Heaven s Eternal King,\\nThe saint, the father, and the husband, prays\\nHope springs exulting on triumphant wing,\\nThat thus they all shall meet in future days\\nThere, ever bask in uncreated rays,\\nNo more to sigh, or shed the bitter tear,\\nTogether hymning their Creator s praise;\\nIn such society, yet still more dear 5\\nWhile circling time moves round in an eternal sphere,\\nXVII.\\nCompared with this, how poor Religion s pride,\\nIn all the pomp of method and of art,\\nWhen men display to congregations wide,\\nDevotion s every grace, except the heart\\nThe Tower, incensed, the pageant will desert,\\nThe pompous strain, the sacerdotal stole\\nBut haply in some cottage far apart,\\nMay hear, well pleased, the language of the soul\\nAnd in l is Book of Life the inmates poor enrol.\\nPope s Windsor Fores*-", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "208 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nXVIII.\\nThen homeward all take off their several way 5\\nThe youngling cottagers retire to rest\\nThe parent -pair their secret homage pay,\\nAnd proffer up to Heaven the Avarm request,\\nThat He who stills the raven s clamorous nest,\\nAnd decks the lily fair in flowery pride,\\nWould, in the way his wisdom sees the best,\\nFor them and for their little ones provide\\nBut chiefly, in their hearts with grace divine preside.\\nXIX.\\nFrom scenes like these, old Scotia s grandeur springs,\\nThat makes her loved at home, revered abroad\\nPrinces and lords are but the breath of kings,\\nAn honest man s the noblest work of God\\nAnd certes, in fair virtue s heavenly road,\\nThe cottage leaves the palace far behind\\nWhat is a lordling s pomp A cumbrous load,\\nDisguising oft the wretch of human kind,\\nStudied in arts of hell, in wickedness refined\\nXX.\\nScotia my dear, my native soil\\nFor whom my warmest wish to Heaven is sent!\\nLong may thy hardy sons of rustic toil,\\nBe bless d with health, and peace, and sweet content\\nAnd, O may Heaven their simple lives prevent\\nFrom luxury s contagion, weak and vile\\nThen, howe er crowns and coronets be rent,\\nA virtuous populace may rise the while,\\nAnd stand a wall of fire around their ranch loved isle.\\nXXI.\\nO Thou J who pour d the patriotic tide\\nThat stream d through Wallace s undaunted heart;", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 209\\nWho dared to nobly stem tyrannic pride,\\nOr nobly die, the second glorious part,\\n(The patriot s God peculiarly thou art,\\nHis friend, inspirer, guardian, and reward\\nO never, never Scotia s realm desert\\nBut still the patriot, and the patriot-bard,\\nIn bright succession raise, her ornament and guard\\n.YA7V WJiS MADE TO MOUMJS\\\\\\nA DIRGE.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS,\\nI.\\nWHEN chill November s surly blast\\nMade fields and forests bare,\\nOne evening, as I wander d forth\\nAlong the banks of Jiyr\\nI spied a man, whose aged step\\nSeem d weary, worn with care\\nHis face was furrow d o er with yearSj\\nAnd hoary was his hair.\\nII.\\nYoung stranger, whither wanderest thou i\\n(Began the reverend sage\\n33oes thirst of wealth thy step constrain.\\nOr youthful pleasure s rage\\nOr haply, press d with cares and woe-.\\nToo soon thou hast began", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "210 BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nTo wander forth, with me, to mourn\\nThe miseries of man.\\nIII.\\nThe sun that overhangs yon moor,\\nOut-spreading far and wide,\\nWhere hundreds labor to support\\nA haughty lordling s pride\\nI ve seen yon weary winter-sun\\nTwice forty times return\\nAnd every time has added proofs,\\nThat man was made to mourn.\\nIV.\\nman while in thy early years,\\nHow prodigal of time\\nMispending all thy precious hours,\\nThy glorious youthful prime\\nAlternate follies take the sway\\nLicentious passions burn\\nWhich tenfold force gives nature s lav/.\\nThat man was made to mourn.\\nV.\\nLook not alone on youthful prime*\\nOr manhood s active might\\nMan then is useful to his kind,\\nSupported is his right,\\nBut see him on the edge of life,\\nWith cares and so\u00c2\u00abrows worn,\\nThen age and want, Oh! ill-match dpair I\\nShow man was made to mourn,\\nVI.\\nA few seem favorite? of fate,\\nIn pleasure s lap caress d;", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 211\\nYet, think not all the rich and great\\nAre likewise truly blest.\\nBut, Oh what crowds in every land.\\nAre wretched and forlorn,\\nThrough weary life this lesson learn.\\nThat man was made to mourn.\\nVII.\\nMany and sharp the numerous ills\\nInwoven with our frame\\nMore pointed still we make ourselves.\\nRegret, remorse and shame\\nAnd man, whose heaven-erected face\\nThe smiles of love adorn,\\nMan s inhumanity to man,\\nMakes countless thousands mourn\\nVIII.\\nSee yonder poor, o erlabor d wight,\\nSo abject, mean, and vile,\\nWho begs a brother of the earth\\nTo give him leave to toil\\nAnd see his lordly fellow ivorm\\nThe poor petition spurn,\\nUnmindful, though a weeping wife\\nAnd helpless offspring mourn.\\nIX.\\nIf I m design d yon lordling s slave,\\nBy Nature s law designed,\\nWhy was an independent wish\\nE er planted in my mind?\\nIf not, why am I subject to\\nHis cruelty, or scorH", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "213 BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nOr why has man the will and power\\nTo make his fellow mourn\\nX.\\nYet, let not this too much, my son,\\nDisturb thy youthful breast;\\nThis partial view of human -kind\\nIs surely not the last\\nThe poor, oppressed, honest man,\\nHad never, sure, been born,\\nHad there not been some recompense\\nTo comfort those that mourn\\nXI.\\nO Death the poor man s dearest friend*\\nThe kindest and the best\\nWelcome the hour my aged limbs\\nAre laid with thee at rest\\nThe great, the wealthy, fear thy blow,\\nFrom pomp and pleasure torn^\\nBut, Oh a blest relief to those\\nThai weary -laden mourn!\\nWINTER.\\nA DIRGE.\\nJ5Y ROBERT BURNS.\\nF HE wintry west extends his blast,\\nAnd hail and rain does blawj(l)\\n(1) Blow.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 21 3\\nOr, the stormy north sends driving forth\\nThe blinding sleet and snaw;(l)\\nWMIe tumbling brown, the burn(2) come? down,\\nAnd roars frae bank to brae, -(3)\\n\\\\nd bird and beast in covert rest,\\nAnd pass the heartless day.\\nII.\\nThe sweeping blast, the sky o ercast*,\\nThe joyless winter-day,\\nLet others fear\u00e2\u0080\u0094 to me more dear\\nThan all the pride of May\\nThe tempest s howl, it soothes my soul,\\nMy griefs it seems to join\\nThe leafless trees my fancy please,\\nTheir fate resembles mine\\nIII.\\nThou Power supreme, whose mighty scheme\\nThese woes* of mine fulfil,\\nHere, firm, I rest, they must be best,\\nBecause they are thy will\\nThen all I want\u00e2\u0080\u0094 (0, do thou grant\\nThis one request of mine\\nSince to enjoy thou dost deny,\\nAssist me to resign.\\n(1) Snow. (2) Water, a rivulet\\n(o) A declivity, a precipice, the slope of a hill,\\nDr. Younsr.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "214 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTO RUIN.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nI.\\nALL hail, inexorable lord\\nAt whose destruction-breathing word.\\nThe mightiest empires fall\\nThy cruel, woe-delighted train,\\nThe ministers of grief and pain,\\nA sullen welcome, all\\nWith stern-resolved, despairing eye,\\nI see each aimed dart\\nFor one has cut my dearest tie,\\nAnd quivers in my heart.\\nThen lowering, and pouring,\\nThe storm no more I dread 5\\nThough thickening and blackening.\\nRound my devoted head.\\nII.\\nAnd thou, grim power, by life abhorr d.\\nWhile life a pleasure can afford,\\nOh hear a wretch s prayer\\nNo more I shrink, appall d, afraid\\nI court, I beg thy friendly aid,\\nTo close this scene of care\\nWhen shall my soul, in silent peace.\\nResign life s joyless day\\nMy weary heart its throbbings cease,\\nCold mouldering in the clay", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. \u00c2\u00a315\\nNo fear more, no tear more,\\nTo stain my lifeless face,\\nEnclasped, and grasped\\nWithin thy cold embrace\\nADDRESS TO EDINBURGH.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nI.\\nEDINA Scotia s darling seat\\nAil hail thy palaces and towers,\\nWhere once, beneath a monarch s feet*\\nSat legislation s sovereign powers\\nFrom marking wildly -scatter d flowers,\\nAs on the banks of Ayr I stray d,\\nAnd singing, lone, the lingering hours,\\nI shelter in thy honor d shade.\\nII.\\nHere wealth still swells the golden tide 9\\nAs busy trade his labor plies\\nThere architecture s noble pride\\nBids elegance and splendor rise\\nHere justice, from her native skies,\\nHigh wields her balance and her rod 5\\nThere learning, with his eagle eyes,\\nSeeks science in her coy abode.\\nIII.\\nThy sons, Edina, social, kind,\\nWith open arms the stranger hail", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "$16 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTheir views enlarged, their liberal mind,\\nAbove the narrow, rural vale\\nAttentive still to sorrow s wail,\\nOr modest merit s silent claim\\nAnd never may their sources fail\\nAnd never envy blot their name\\nIV.\\nThy daughters bright thy walks adorn.\\nGay as the gilded summer sky,\\nSweet as the dewy milk-white thorn,\\nDear as the raptured thrill of joy\\nFair B strikes th adoring eye,\\nHeaven s beauties on my fancy shine\\nI see the Sire of Love on high,\\nAnd own his work indeed divine\\nV.\\nThere, watching high the least alarms,\\nThy rough rude fortress gleams afar\\nX.ike some bold veteran, gray in arms,\\nAnd mark d with many a seamy scar\\nThe ponderous wall and massy bar,\\nGrim-rising o er the rugged rock\\nHave oft withstood assailing war,\\nAnd oft repell d th invader s shock.\\nVI.\\nWith awe-struck thought, and pitying tears\\nI view that noble, stately dome,\\nWhere Scotia s kings of other years,\\nFamed heroes, had their royal home\\nAlas, how changed the times to come\\nTheir royal name low in the dust\\nTheir hapless race wild-wandering roam\\nThough rigid law cries out, twas just", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 2tf\\nVII.\\nWild beats my heart, to trace your steps*\\nWhose ancestors, in days of yore,\\nThrough hostile ranks and ruin d gaps\\nOld Scotia s bloody lion bore\\nEv n J, who sing in rustic lore,\\nHaply, my sires have left their shed.\\nAnd faced grim danger s loudest roar,\\nBold following where your fathers led!\\nVIII.\\nEdina I Scotia s darling seat\\nAll hail thy palaces and towers,\\nWhere once, beneath a monarch s feet,\\nSat legislation s sovereign powers\\nFrom marking wiidly-scatter d flowers,\\nAs on the banks of Ayr I stray d,\\nAnd singing, lone, the lingering hours,\\nI shelter in thy honor d shade.\\nSONG.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nTune Roslin Castle.\\nI.\\nTHE gloomy night is gathering fast,\\nLoud roars the wild inconstant blast,\\nYon murky cloud is foul with rain,\\nI see it driving o er the plain\\nT 2", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "218 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThe hunter now has left the moor,\\nThe scatter d coveys meet secure,\\nWhile here I wander, press d with can-.\\nAlong the lonely banks of Ayr.\\nII.\\nThe Autumn mourns her ripening corn\\nBy early Winter s ravage torn:\\nAcross her placid, azure sky,\\nShe sees the scowling tempest fly\\nChill runs my blood to hear it rave.\\nI think upon the stormy wave,\\nWhere many a danger I must dare.\\nFar from the bonnie banks of Ayr*\\nIII.\\n*Tis not the surging billows roar,\\nTis not that fatal deadly shore\\nThough death in every shape appear.\\nThe wTetched have no more to fear\\nBut round my heart the ties are bound,\\nThat heart transpierced with many a wound\\nThese bleed afresh, those ties I tear,\\nTo leave the bonnie banks of Ayr.\\nIV.\\nFarewel, old Collars hills and dales,\\nHer heathy moors and winding vales 5\\nThe scenes where wretched Fancy roves,\\nPursuing past, unhappy loves\\nFarewel, my friends farewel, my foes\\nMy peace with these, my love with those-\\nThe bursting tears my heart declare,\\nFarewel, the bonnie banks of Ayr", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 219\\nTHE FAREWEL,\\nTO THE BRETHREN OF ST. JAMES S LODGE,\\nTARBOLTOX.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nTune Good night, and joy be uri? you a\\\\\\nI.\\nADIEU a heart-warm, fond adieu\\nDear brothers of the mystic tie i\\nYe favor d, ye enlightened few,\\nCompanions of my social joy\\nThough I to foreign lauds must Me,\\nPursuing fortune s sliddery(l) ba ,(2)\\nWith melting heart, and brimful eye,\\nI ll mind you still, though far awa .(S)\\nII.\\nOft have I met your social band,\\nAnd spent the cheerful, festive night j\\nOft, honor d with supreme command,\\nPresided o er the sons of light\\nAnd by that hieroglyphic bright,\\nWhich none but craftsmen ever saw\\nStrong memory on my heart shall write\\nThosehappy scenes when far awa\\\\\\nIII.\\nMay freedom, harmony, and love,\\nUnite you in the grand design.\\n(1) Slippery. (2) Ball. (3) Away.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "2\u00c2\u00a30 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nBeneath th omniscient eye above,\\nThe glorious Architect divine\\nThat you may keep th unerring line,\\nStill rising by the plummet s law,\\nTill order bright completely shine,\\nShall be my prayer when far awa\\\\\\nIV.\\nAnd you farewel whose merits claim.\\nJustly, that highest badge to wear\\nHeaven bless your honor d, noble name.\\nTo masonry and Scotia dear\\nA last request permit me here,\\nWhen yearly ye assemble a\\nOne round, I ask it with a tear,\\nTo him, the bard that s far awa\\\\\\nWRITTEN IN FRMRS-CARSE HERMITAGE.\\nON NITH-SIDE.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nTHOU whom chance may hither lead,\\nBe thou clad in russet weed,\\nBe thou deck d in silken stole,\\nGrave these counsels on thy soul.\\nLife is but a day at most,\\nSprung from night, in darkness lost 5\\nHope not sunshine every hour,\\nFear not clouds will always lower.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nAs youth and love, with sprightly dance,\\nBeneath thy morning star advance,\\nPleasure with her siren air\\nMay delude the thoughtless pair\\nLet prudence Mess enjoyment s cup r\\nThen raptured sip, and sip it up.\\nAs thy day grows warm and high,\\nLife s meridian flaming nigh,\\nDost thou spurn the humble vale\\nLife s proud summits wouldst thou scale\\nCheck thy climbing step, elate,\\nEvils lurk in felon wait\\nDangers, eagle-pinion d, bold,\\nSoar around each cliffy hold,\\nWhile cheerful peace, with linnet song,\\nChants the lowly dells among.\\nAs the shades of evening close,\\nBeckoning thee to long repose\\nAs life itself becomes disease,\\nSeek the chimney -nook of ease.\\nThere ruminate with sober thought,\\nOn all thou st seen, and heard, and wrought\\nAnd teach the sportive younkers round,\\nLaws of experience, sage and sound.\\nSay, man s true, genuine estimate,\\nThe grand criterion of his fate,\\nIs not, art thou high or low\\nDid thy fortune ebb or flow\\nDid many talents gild thy span\\nOr frugal nature grudge thee one\\nTell them, and press it on their mind,\\nAs thou thyself must shortly find,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "222 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThe smile or frown of awful Heaven,\\nTo virtue or to vice is given.\\nSay, to be just, and kind, and wise,\\nThere solid self-enjoyment lies\\nThat foolish, selfish, faithless ways,\\nLead to be wretched, vile, and base.\\nThus resign d and quiet, creep\\nTo the bed of lasting sleep\\nSleep, whence thou shalt ne er awake,\\nNight, where dawn shall never break,\\nTill future life, future no more,\\nTo light and joy the good restore,\\nTo light and joy unknown before.\\nStranger, go Heaven be thy guide\\nQuod the Beadsman of Nith-side.\\nOn scaring some Water -Fowl in Loch-Turit, a wild\\nScene among the Hills of Oaghtertyre,\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nWHY, ye tenants of the lake,\\nFor me your watery haunt forsake\\nTell me, fellow creatures, why\\nAt my presence thus you fly\\nWhy disturb your social joys,\\nParent, filial, kindred ties\\nCommon friend to you and me\\nNature s gifts to all are free", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 223\\nPeaceful keep jour dimpling wave,\\nBusy feed, or wanton lave 5\\nOr, beneath the sheltering rock,\\nBide the surging billows shock.\\nConscious, blushing for our races,\\nSoon, too soon, your fears I trace,\\nMan, your proud usurping foe,\\nWould be lord of all below\\nPlumes himself in freedom s pride,\\nTyrant stern to all beside.\\nThe eagle, from the cliffy brow,\\nMarking you his prey below,\\nIn his breast no pity dwells,\\nStrong necessity compels.\\nBut man, to w T hom alone is given\\nA ray direct from pitying Heaven,\\nGlories in his heart humane\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nAnd creatures for his pleasures slain.\\nIn these savage, liquid plains,\\nOnly known to wandering swains,\\nWhere the mossy rivulet strays.\\nFar from human haunts and ways 5\\nAll on nature you depend,\\nAnd life s poor season peaceful spend.\\nOr, if man s superior might\\nDare invade your native right,\\nOn the lofty ether borne,\\nMan with all his powers you scorn 5\\nSwiftly seek, on clanging wings,\\nOther lakes and other springs\\nAnd the foe you cannot brave,\\nScorn at least to be his slave.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "124 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nDESPONDENCY.\\nAN ODE.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nI.\\nOPPRESSED with grief, oppressed with care,\\nA burden more than I can bear,\\nI sit me down and sigh\\nO life thou art a galling load,\\nAlong a rough, a weary road,\\nTo wretches such as I\\nDim -backward as I cast my view,\\nWhat sickening scenes appear\\nWhat sorrows yet may pierce me through,\\nToo justly I may fear J\\nStill caring, despairing,\\nMust be my bitter doom\\nMy woes here shall close ne er.\\nBut with the closing tomb 1\\nII.\\nHappy, ye sons of busy life,\\nWho, equal to the bustling strife,\\nNo other view regard\\nEv n when the wished end s denied,\\nYet while the busy means are plied,\\nThey bring their own reward\\nWhilst I, a hope-abandon d wight,\\nUnfitted with an aim,\\nMeet every sad returning night,\\nAnd joyless mourn the same.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 225\\nYou bustling, and justling,\\nForget each grief and pain 5\\nI listless, yet restless,\\nFind every prospect vain.\\nIII.\\nHow blest the solitary s lot,\\nWho, all -forgetting, all-fergot,\\nWithin his humble cell,\\nThe cavern wild with tangling roots.\\nSits o er his newly gather d fruits,\\nBeside his crystal well\\nOr haply, to his evening thought,\\nBy unfrequented stream,\\nThe ways of men are distant brought.\\nA faint-collected dream\\nWhile praising, and raising\\nHis thoughts to Heaven on high.\\nAs wandering, meandering,\\nHe views the solemn sky.\\nIV.\\nThan I, no lonely hermit placed\\nWhere never human footstep traced,\\nLess fit to play the part 5\\nThe lucky moment to improve,\\nAnd just to stop, a.nd just to move,\\nWith self-respecting art\\nBut ah those pleasures, loves, and joys.\\nWhich I too keenly taste,\\nThe solitary can despise,\\nCan want, and yet be blest\\nHe needs not, he heeds not,\\nOr human love or hate,\\nWhilst I here must cry here.\\nAt perfidy ingrate\\nU", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "226 BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nADDRESS\\nTO THE SHADE OF THOMSON,\\nOn crowning his Bust, at Ednam, Roxburghshire,\\nwith Bays.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nWHILE virgin Spring, by Eden s flood,\\nUnfolds her tender mantle green,\\nOr pranks the sod in frolic mood,\\nOr tunes iEolian strains between\\nWhile Summer, with a matron grace,\\nRetreats to Dryburgh s cooling shade,\\nYet oft, delighted, stops to trace\\nThe progress of the spiky blade\\nWhile Autumn, benefactor kind,\\nBy Tweed erects his aged head,\\nAnd sees, with self-approving mind.\\nEach creature on his bounty fed\\nWliile maniac Winter rages o er\\nThe hills whence classic Yarrow flows,\\nHousing the turbid torrent s roar,\\nOr sweeping, wild, a waste of snows\\nSo long, sweet poet of the year,\\nShall bloom that wreath thou well hast won\\nWhile Scotia, with exulting tear,\\nProclaims that Thomson was her son-", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 17\\nQn seeing a wounded Rare limp by me, which a Fellow\\nhad just shot at.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nINHUMAN man curse on thy barbarous art.\\nAnd blasted be thy murder-aiming eye\\nMay never pity soothe thee with a sigh.\\nNor ever pleasure glad thy cruel heart\\nGo live, poor wanderer of the wood and field.\\nThe bitter little that of life remains\\nNo more the thickening brakes and verdant plain\\nTo thee shall home, or food, or pastime, yield.\\nSeek, mangled wretch, some place of wonted rest,\\nNo more of rest, but now thy dying bed\\nThe sheltering rushes whistling o er thy head.\\nThe cold earth with thy bloody bosom press d.\\nOft as by winding Nith, I, musing, wait\\nThe sober eve, or hail the cheerful dawn,\\nI ll miss thee sporting o er the dewy lawn,\\nAnd curse the ruffian s aim, and mourn thy hapless fate\\nON MISS J. SCOTT, OF AYR.\\nBY ROBERT BURNS.\\nOH had each Scot of ancient times,\\nBeen Jeany Scott, as thou art,\\nThe bravest heart on English ground.\\nHad vielded like a coward.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "228 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTHE FAKENHAM GHOST.\\nBY ROBERT BLOOMFIELD.\\ni HE lawns were dry in Euston Park i\\n(Here truth inspires my tale)\\nThe lonely foot-path, still and dark,\\nLed over hill and dale.\\nBenighted was an ancient damg,\\nAnd fearful haste she made\\nTo gain the vale of Fakenham\\nAnd hail its willow shade.\\nHer footsteps knew no idle stops,\\nBut follow d faster still\\nAnd echo d to the darksome copse,\\nThat whisper d on the hill.\\nWhere clamorous rooks, yet scarcely huslrd.\\nBespoke a peopled shade\\nAnd many a wing tlie foliage bruslrd,\\nAnd hovering circuits made.\\nThe dappled herd of grazing deer,\\nThat sought the shades by day,\\nNow started from her path with fear\\nAnd gave the stranger way.\\nBarker it grew and darker fears\\nCame o er her troubled mind\\nWhen now a short quick step she hear*\\nCome patting close behind.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 229\\nShe iurn d it stopp d nought could she see\\nUpon the gloomy plain\\nBut, as she strove the sprite to flee,\\nShe heard the same again.\\nNow terror seized her quaking frame\\nFor, where the path was bare,\\nThe trotting ghost kept on the same I\\nShe mutter d many a prayer.\\nYet once again, amidst her fright,\\nShe tried what sight could do 5\\nWhen, through the cheating glooms of night.?\\nA monster stood in view.\\nRegardless of whate er she felt,\\nIt followed down the plain\\nShe own d her sins, and down she knelt.\\nAnd said her prayers again.\\nThen on she sped and hope grew strong.\\nThe white park gate in view\\nWhich pushing hard, so long it swung\\n^hat ghost and all pass d through.\\nLoud fell the gate against the post\\nHer heart-strings like to crack\\nFor much she fear d the grisly ghost\\nWould leap upon her back.\\nStill on, pat, pat, the goblin went,\\nAs it had done before\\nHer strength and resolution spent,\\nShe fainted at the door.\\nOut came her husband, much surprised\\nOut came her daughter dear\\nU 2", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "230 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nGood-natured souls all unadvised\\nOf what they had to fear.\\nThe candle s gleam pierced through the night,\\nSome short space o er the green\\nAnd there the little trotting sprite\\nDistinctly might be seen.\\nAn ass s foal had lost its dam\\nWithin the spacious park\\nAnd, simple as the playful lamb,\\nHad follow d in the dark.\\nNo goblin he no imp of sin\\nNo crimes had ever known.\\nThey took the shaggy stranger in,\\nAnd rear d him as their own.\\nHis little hoofs would rattle round.\\nUpon the cottage floor\\nThe matron learn d to love the sound\\nThat frighten d her before.\\nA favorite the ghost became\\nAnd twas his fate to thrive\\nAnd long he lived, and spread his fame,\\nAnd kept the joke alive.\\nFor many a laugh went through the vafe,\\nAnd some conviction too\\nBach thought some other goblin taFe*.\\nPerhaps, was just as true,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "9\\nBEAUTIES OF POETRY. 251\\nORIENTAL ECLOGUES.\\nBY WILLIAM COLLINS.\\nECLOGUE I.\\nSELIM 5 OR, THE SHEPHERD S MORAL.\\n.Scene, a Valley near Bagdat. Time, the Morning,\\nIE Persian maids, attend your Poet s lays,\\ni; And hear how shepherds pass their golden days.\\nNot all are blest whom Fortune s hand sustains\\nWith wealth in courts nor all that haunt the plains\\nWell may your hearts believe the truth I tell\\nu Tis virtue makes the bliss where er we dwell.\\nThus Selim sung, by sacred truth inspired\\nNor praise, but such as truth bestow d, desired\\nWise in himself, his meaning songs convey d\\nInforming morals to the shepherd maid\\nOr taught the swains that surest bliss to find,\\nWhat groves nor streams bestow a virtuous mind.\\nWhen sweet and blushing, like a virgin bride,\\nThe radiant morn resumed her orient pride\\nWhen wanton gales along the valleys play,\\nBreathe on each flower, and bear their sweets away\\nBy Tigris wandering waves he sat, and sung\\nThis useful lesson for the fair and young.\\nYe Persian dames, he said to you belong\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nWell may they please the morals of my song\\nNo fairer maids, I trust, than you are found,\\nM Graced with 90ft arts, the peopled world around", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "232 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThe morn that lights you, to your loves supplies\\nEach gentler ray delicious to your eyes\\nFor you those flowers her fragrant hands bestow 5\\nAnd yours the love that kings delight to know*\\nYet think not these, all beauteous as they are,\\nThe best kind blessings Heaven can grant the fair\\nWho trust alone in beauty s feeble ray,\\nBoast but the worth Balsora s pearls display\\nDrawn from the deep, we own the surface bright 5\\nBut, dark within, they drink no lustrous light\\nSuch are the maids, and such the charms they boast,\\nBy sense unaided, or to virtue lost.\\nSelf-flattering sex your hearts believe in vain\\nThat love shall blind, when once he fires the swain\\nOr hope a lover by your faults to win,\\nAs spots on ermine beautify the skin\\nWho seeks secure to rule, be first her care\\nEach softer virtue that adorns the fair\\nEach tender passion man delights to find,\\nThe loved perfection of a female mind 1\\nBlest were the days when Wisdom held her reigtu\\nw And shepherds sought her on the silent plain\\nWith Truth she wedded in the secret grove\\nImmortal Truth and daughters bless d their love.\\na o haste, fair maids ye Virtues, come away\\nfci Sweet Peace and Plenty lead you on your way\\nThe balmy shrub for you shall love our shore,\\nBy Ind excelPd^ or Araby, no more.\\nLost to our fields, for so the fates ordain,\\nCi The dear deserters shall return again.\\n6i Come thou, whose thoughts as limpid springs are clear,\\nTo lead the train, sweet Modesty, appear", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 233\\nfe Here make thy court amidst our rural scene,\\nu And shepherd girls shall own thee for their queen\\nWith thee be Chastity, of all afraid,\\n54 Distrusting all a wise, suspicious maid\\nJ* But man the most not more the mountain doe\\nW Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe.\\nu Cold is her breast, like flowers that drink the dew\\nA silken veil conceals her from the view.\\nNo wild desires amidst thy train be known\\n;i But Faith, whose heart is iix d on one alone 5\\nCi Desponding Meekness, with her downcast eyes,\\nW And friendly Pity, full of tender sighs\\ni And Love, the last by these your hearts approve;\\n;i These are the virtues that must lead to love.\\nThus sung the swain 5 and ancient legends say\\nThe maids of Bagdat verified the lay\\nDear to the plains, the Virtues came along 5\\nThe shepherds loved 5 and Selim bless d his song.\\nECLOGUE IL\\nHASSAN OR, THE CAMEL-DRIVER,\\nScene, the Desert, Time, Mid -Day.\\nIN silent horror, o er the boundless waste,\\nThe driver Hassan with his camels pass d\\nOne cruse of water on his back he bore,\\nAnd his light scrip contain d a scanty store\\nA fan of painted feathers in his hand,\\nTo guard his shaded face from scorching sand\\nThe sultry sun had gaiivd the middle sky,\\nAnd not a tree, and not an herb was nigh", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "234 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThe beasts with pain their dusty way pursue\\nShrill roar d the winds, and dreary was the view\\nWith desperate sorrow wild, th affrighted man\\nThrice sigh d thrice struck his breast and thus began\\nSad was the hour, and luckless was the day,\\nWhen first from Schiraz walls I bent my way\\nAh little thought I of the blasting wind,\\nThe thirst, or pinching hunger, that I find\\nBethink Vnee, Hassan, where shall thirst assuage?\\nWhen fails this cruse, his unrelenting rage\\nSoon shall this scrip its precious load resign\\nThen what but tears and hunger shall be thine\\nj\\nYe mute companions of my toils, that bear\\nIn all my griefs a more than equal share\\nnere, where no springs in murmurs break away*\\nOr moss-crown d fountains mitigate the day,\\nIn vain ye hope the green delights to know\\nWhich plains more blest, or verdant vales, bestow\\nHere rocks alone, and tasteless sands, are found,\\nAnd faint and sickly winds for ever howl around.\\nSad was the hour, and luckless was the day,\\nWhen first from Schiraz walls I bent my way\\nCursed be the gold and silver, which persuade\\nWeak men to follow far-fatiguing trade\\nThe lily Peace outshines the silver store,\\nAnd life is dearer than the golden ore\\nYet money tempts us o er the desert brown.\\nTo every distant mart and wealthy town.\\nFull oft we tempt the land, and oft the sea\\nAnd are we only yet repaid by thee\\nAh why was ruin so attractive made,\\nOr why fond man so easily betray d", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, *3o\\n.V*hy heed we not, while mad we haste along,\\nThe gentle voice of peace or pleasure s song\\nlOr wherefore think the flowery mountain s side,\\nThe fountain s murmurs, and the valley s pride j\\nWhy think we these less pleasing to behold\\nThan dreary deserts, if they lead to gold\\nSad was the hour, and luckless was the day,\\nWhen first from Schiraz walls I bent my way\\nO cease my fears All frantic as I go,\\nVhen thought creates unnumber d scenes of woe j\\nWhat if the lion, in his rage, I meet\\nOft, in the dust, I view his printed feet\\nA nd, fearful! oft, when day s declining light,\\n-Yields her pale empire to the mourner night,\\nBy hunger roused he scours the groaning plain,\\n1 Gaunt wolves and sullen tigers in his train\\nJ Before them Death, with shrieks, directs their way,\\n,l?ills the wild yell, and leads them to their prey.\\nSad was the hour, and luckless was the day,\\nWhen first from Schiraz wails I bent my way\\nAt that dead hour the silent asp shall creep,\\nI ffi ought of rest I find, upon my sleep 5\\nOr some swoln serpent twist his scales around,\\nAnd wake to anguish with a burning wound.\\n^Thrice happy they, the wise contented poor,\\nKrom lust of wealth, and dread of death secure\\nThey tempt no deserts, and no griefs they find\\nPeace rules the day where reason rules the mind.\\nSad was the hour, and luckless was the clay,\\nWhen first from Schiraz walls I bent my way\\nO hapless youth for she thy love hath won\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nThe tender Zara will be most undone", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "236 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nBig swell d my heart, and own d the powerful maid, J\\nWhen fast she dropp d her tears, as thus she said\\nFarewel the youth whom sighs could not detain\\nWhom Zara s breaking heart implored in vain\\nYet, as thou go st, may every blast arise\\nWeak and unfelt as these rejected sighs\\nSafe o er the wild, no perils may st thou see,\\nNo griefs endure nor weep, false youth, like me.\\nO let me safely to the fair return\\nSay, with a kiss, she must not, shall not mourn 5\\nO let me teach my heart to lose its fears,\\nRecall d by Wisdom s voice, and Zara s tears.\\nHe said, and call d on Heaven to bless the day\\nWhen back to Schiraz walls he bent his way.\\nECLOGUE III.\\nABRA OR, THE GEORGIAN SULTANA.\\nScene, a Forest. Time, the Evening.\\nIN Georgia s land, where Tefflis towers are seen.\\nIn distant view, along the level green\\nWhile evening dews enrich the glittering glade,\\nAnd the tall forests cast a longer shade\\nWhat time tis sweet o er fields of rice to stray,\\nOr scent the breathing maize at setting day 5\\nAmidst the maids of Zagen s peaceful grove,\\nEmyra sung the pleasing cares of love.\\nOf Abra first began the tender strain,\\nWho led her youth with flocks upon the plain 5\\nAt morn she came, those willing flocks to lead.\\nWhere lilies rear them in the watery mead\\nI", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 3\\nFrom early dawn, the live-long hours she told,\\nTill late, at silent eve, she penn d the fold.\\nDeep in the grove, beneath the secret shade,\\nA various wreath of odorous flowers she made.\\nGay motley d pinks, and sweet jonquils she chose,\\nThe violet blue, that on the moss-bank grows 5\\nAll sweet to sense, the flaunting rose was there\\nThe finish d chaplet well adorn d her hair.\\nGreat Abbas chanced that fated morn to stray,\\nBy love conducted from the chase away\\nAmong the vocal vales he heard her song,\\nAnd sought the vales and echoing groves among.\\nAt length he found and woo d the rural maid\\nShe knew the monarch, and with fear obey d.\\nBe every youth like royal Abbas moved,\\nAnd every Georgian maid like Abra loved\\nThe royal lover bore her from the plain\\nYet still her crook and bleating flock remain\\nOft as she went, she backward turn d her view.\\nAnd bade that crook and bleating flock adieu.\\nFair happy maid to other scenes remove\\nTo richer scenes of golden power and love\\nGo, leave the simple pipe and shepherd s strain\\nWith love delight thee, and with Abbas reign\\n4i Be every youth like royal Abbas moved,\\nAnd every Georgian maid like Abra loved\\nYet, midst the blaze of courts, she fixed her love\\nOn the cool fountain, or the shady grove\\nStill, with the shepherd s innocence, her mind\\nTo the sweet vale and flowery mead inclined\\nAnd. oft as spring renewM the plains\\nBreathed his soft gales, and led the fragant hours*\\nV", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "23S BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWith sure return she sought the sylvan scene,\\nThe breezy mountains, and the forests green.\\nHer maids around her moved, a duteous band I\\nEach bore a crook, all rural, in her hand\\nSome simple lay of flocks and herds they sung;\\nWith joy the mountain and the forest rung.\\nBe every youth like royal x\\\\bbas moved,\\nAnd every Georgian maid like Abra loved!\\nAnd oft the royal lover left the care\\nAnd thorns of state, attendant on the fair\\nOft to the shades and low-roof d cot retired 5\\nOr sought the vale where first his heart was fired\\nA russet mantle, like a swain, he wore,\\nAnd thought of crowns, and busy courts no more.\\nBe every youth like royal Abbas moved,\\nAnd every Georgian maid like Abra loved\\nBlest was the life that royal Abbas led\\nSweet was his love, and innocent his bed.\\nWhat if in wealth the noble maid excel\\nThe simple shepherd girl can love as well.\\nLet those who rule on Persia s jewell d throne\\nBe famed for love, and gentlest love alone\\nOr wreathe, like Abbas, full of fair renown,\\nThe lover s myrtle with the warrior s crown.\\nCi O happy days the maids around her say 5\\nA O haste, profuse of blessings, haste away!\\nBe every youth like royal Abbas moved,\\nJ* And every Georgian maid like Abra loved", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 239\\nECLOGUE IV.\\nAGIB AND SECANDER; OR, THE FUGITIVES.\\nScene, a Mountain in Cir cassia. Time^ Midnight.\\nIN fair Circassia, where, to love inclined,\\nEach swain was blest, for every maid was kindj\\nAt that still hour when awful midnight reigns,\\nAnd none but wretches haunt the twilight plains:\\nWhat time the moon had hung her lamp on high,\\nAnd pass d in radiance through the cloudless sky\\nSad, o er the dews, two brother shepherds fled,\\nWhere wildering fear and desperate sorrow led\\nFast as they press d their flight, behind them lay\\nWide ravaged plains, and valleys stole away\\nAlong the mountain s bending side they ran.\\nTill, faint and weak, Secander thus began.\\nSECANDER.\\nstay thee, Agib, for my feet deny,\\nNo longer friendly to my life, to fly.\\nFriend of my heart, turn thee and survey 1\\nTrace our sad flight through all its length of way\\nAnd first review that long-extended plain,\\nAnd yon wide groves already pass d with pain\\nYon ragged cliff, whose dangerous path we tried\\nAnd, last, this lofty mountain s weary side\\nAGIB.\\nWeak as thou art, yet, hapless, must thou know\\nThe toils of flight, or some severer woe\\nStill, as I haste, the Tartar shouts behind;\\nAnd shrieks and sorrows load the saddeuing wind", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "240 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nIn rage of heart, with ruin in his hand,\\nHe blasts our harvests, and deforms our land.\\nYon citron grove, whence first in fear we came.\\nDrops its fair honors to the conquering flame\\nFar fly the swains, like us, in deep despair,\\nAnd leave to ruffian bands their fleecy care.\\nSECANDER.\\nUnhappy land, whose blessings tempt the sword\\nIn vain, unheard, thou call st thy Persian lord!\\nIn vain thou court st him, helpless, to thine aid,\\nTo shield the shepherd, and protect the maid\\nFar off, in thoughtless indolence resi n d,\\nSoft dreams of love and pleasure soothe his mind\\nMidst fair sultanas lost in idle joy,\\nNo wars alarm him, and no fears annoy.\\nAGIB.\\nYet these green hills, in summer s sultry heat^\\nHave lent the monarch oft a cool retreat.\\nSweet to the sight is Zebra s flowery plain,\\nAnd once by maids and shepherds loved in vain\\nNo more the virgins shall delight to rove\\nJBy Sargis banks, or Irwan s shady grove\\nOn Tarkie s mountain catch the cooling gale,\\nOr breathe the sweets of Aly s flowery vale\\nFair scenes! but ah! no more with peace possess d,\\nWith ease alluring, and with plenty bless d.\\nNo more the shepherd s whitening tents appear,\\nNor the kind products of a bounteous year\\nNo more the date, with snowy blossoms crown d\\nBut ruin spreads her baleful fires around.\\nSECANDER.\\nIn vain Circassia boasts her spicy groves-,\\nFor ever famed for pure and happy loves", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 241\\nIn vain she boasts her fairest of the fair,\\nTheir eyes blue languish, and their golden hair\\nThose eyes in tears their fruitless grief must send\\nThose hairs the Tartar s cruel hand shall rend.\\nAGIB.\\nYe Georgian swains, thai piteous learn from far\\nCircassia s ruin, and the waste of war\\nSome weightier arms than crooks and staffs prepare.\\nTo shield your harvest, and defend your fair\\nThe Turk and Tartar like designs pursue,\\nFix d to destroy, and stedfast to undo.\\nWild as his land, in native deserts bred,\\nBy lust incited, or by malice led,\\nThe villain Arab, as he prowls for prey,\\nOft marks with blood and wasting flames the way\\nYet none so cruel as the Tartar foe,\\nTo death inured, and nursed in scenes of woe.\\nHe said when loud along the vale was heard\\nA shriller shriek, and nearer fires appear d\\nTh affrighted shepherds, through the dews of night,\\nWide o er the moon-light hills renew d their flight.\\nODE OK THE PASSIONS.\\nBY WILLIAM COLLINS.\\nWHEN Music, heavenly maid, was young\\nWhile yet in early Greece she sung,\\nThe Passions oft, to hear her shell,\\nThrong d around her magic cell,\\nV 2", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a342 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nExulting, trembling, raging, fainting,\\nPossess d beyond the Muse s painting\\nBy turns they felt the glowing mind\\nDisturb d, delighted, raised, refined\\nTill once, tis said, when all were fired.\\nFilPd with fury, rapt, inspired,\\nFrom the supporting myrtles round\\nThey snatch d her instruments of sound\\nAnd, as they oft had heard apart\\nSweet lessons of her forceful art,\\nEach (for Madness ruled the hour)\\nWould prove his own expressive power.\\nFirst Fear his hand, its skill to try,\\nAmidst the chords bewilder d laid,.\\nAnd back recoil d, he knew not why,\\nEv n at the sound himself had made,\\nKext Anger rush d his eyes on fire,\\nIn lightnings, own d his secret stings\\nfn one rude clash he struck the lyre,\\nAnd swept with hurried hand the strings.\\nWith woful measures wan Despair\\nLow, sullen sounds his grief beguiled;\\nA solemn, strange, and mingled air\\n*Twas sad by fits, by starts twas wild.\\nBut thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair,\\nWhat was thy delighted measure\\nStill it whisper d promised pleasure,\\nAnd bade the lovely scenes at distance hail\\nStill would her touch the strain prolong\\nAnd from the rocks, the woods, the vale,\\nShe call d on Echo still, through all the song", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 243\\nAnd, where her sweetest theme she chose\\nA soft responsive voice was heard at every close\\nAnd Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her goldeff\\nhair.\\nAnd longer had she sung but, with a frown.\\nRevenge impatient rose\\nHe threw his blood-stain d sword in thunder down\\nAnd, with a withering look,\\nThe war-denouncing trumpet took,\\nAnd blew a blast so loud and dread,\\nWere ne er prophetic sounds so full of woe 1\\nAnd, ever and anon, he beat\\nThe doubling drum with furious heat\\nAnd though sometimes, each dreary pause between,\\nDejected Pity, at his side,\\nHer soul-subduing voice applied,\\nYet still he kept his wild unalter d mien,\\nWhile each strained ball of sight seem d bursting from\\nhis head.\\nThy numbers, Jealousy, to nought were fix d\\nSad proof of thy distressful state\\nOf differing themes the veering song was mix d\\nAnd now it courted Love, now raving call d on Hatef\\nWith eyes up-raised, as one inspired,\\nPale Melancholy sat retired\\nAnd, from her wild sequester d seat,\\nIn notes by distance made more sweet,\\nPour d through the mellow horn her pensive soul\\nAnd, dashing soft from rocks around,\\nBubbling runnels join d the sound\\nThrough glades and glooms the mingled measures stole,\\nOr o er some haunted stream, with fond delay,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "244 BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nRound a holy calm diffusing,\\nLove of peace, and lonely musing,\\nIn hollow murmurs died away.\\nBut O how alter d was its sprightlier tone,\\nWhen Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue,\\nHer bow across her shoulder flung,\\nHer buskins gemm d with morning dew,\\nBlew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung,\\nThe hunter s call, to Faun and Dryad known.\\nThe oak-crown d sisters, and their chaste -eyed queen\\nSatyrs and sylvan boys were seen,\\nPeeping from forth their alleys green\\nBrown Exercise rejoiced to hear\\nAnd Sport leap d up, and seized his beechen speai\\nLast came Joy s extatic trial\\nHe, with viny crowns advancing,\\nFirst to the lively pipe his hand address d\\nBut soon he saw the brisk awakening viol,\\nWhose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best\\nThey would have thought, who heard the strain,\\nThey saw, in Tempe s vale, her native maids,\\nAmidst the festal sounding shades,\\nTo some unwearied minstrel dancing,\\nWhile, as his flying fingers kiss d the strings,\\nLove framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round\\nLoose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound,\\nAnd he, amidst his frolic play,\\nAs if he would the charming air repay,\\nShook thousand odors from his dewy wings.\\nO Music sphere-descended maid,\\nFriend of pleasure, wisdom s aid", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 245\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6Why, goddess why, to us denied,\\nLay st thou thy ancient lyre aside\\nAs, in that loved Athenian bower,\\nYou learn d an all-commanding power,\\nThy mimic soul, O nymph endear d,\\nCan well recall what then it heard,\\n-Where is thy native simple heart,\\nDevote to virtue, fancy, art\\n.\u00e2\u0096\u00a0Arise, as in that elder time,\\nWarm, energetic, chaste, sublime\\nThy wonders, in that godlike age,\\nFill thy recording sister s page\u00e2\u0080\u0094\\nJdTis said, and I believe the tale,\\nThy humblest reed could more prevail,\\nHad more of strength, diviner rage,\\nThan all which charms this laggard age 5\\nEv n all at once together found,\\n-Cecilia s mingled world of sound\\nO bid our vain endeavors cease\\nRevive the just designs of Greece\\n-Return in all thy simple state\\nConfirm the tales her sons relate\\nODE TO SIMPLICITY.\\nBY WILLIAM COLLINS.\\nO THOU, by nature taught\\nTo breathe her genuine thought,\\nIn numbers warmly pure, and sweetly strong", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "ZAG BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWho first on mountains wild,\\nIn Fancy, loveliest child,\\nThy babe, or Pleasure s, nursed the powers of song 1\\nThou, who, with hermit heart,\\nDisdain st the wealth of art,\\nAnd gauds, and pageant weeds, and training pall\\nBut comest, a decent maid,\\nIn Attic robe array d,\\nchaste, unboastful nymph, to thcc I call\\nBy all the honey d store\\nOn Hybla s thy my shore\\nBy all her blooms, and mingled murmurs dear\\nBy her* whose love-lorn woe,\\nIn evening musings slow,\\nSoothed sweetly sad Electra s poet s ear\\nBy old Cephisus deep,\\nWho spread his wavy sweep,\\nIn warbled wanderings, round thy green retreat\\nOn whose enamell d side,\\nWhen holy Freedom died,\\nNo equal haunt allured thy future feet.\\nO sister meek of Truth,\\nTo my admiring youth,\\nThy sober aid and native charms infuse I\\nThe flowers that sweetest breathe,\\nThough Beauty cull d the wreath,\\nStill ask thy hand to range their order d hues.\\nWhile Rome could none esteem\\nBut virtue s patriot theme,\\nThe nightingale, for which Sophocles seems to have ejiteY\\ntained a peculiar fondness.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 24:\\nYou loved her hills, and led her laureat band\\nBut staid to sing alone\\nTo one distinguish M throne\\nAnd turn d thy face, and fled her alter d land.\\nNo more, in hall or bower,\\nThe passions own thy power\\nLove, only Love, her forceless numbers mean:\\nFor thou hast left her shrine\\nNor olive more, nor vine,\\nShall gain thy feet to bless the servile scene,\\nThough taste, though genius bless\\nTo some divine excess,\\n\u00e2\u0080\u00a2Faints the cold work till thou inspire the whole\\nWhat each, what all supply,\\nMay court, may charm our eye\\nThou, only thou, canst raise the meeting soul\\nOf these let others ask,\\nTo aid some mighty task\\nI only seek to find thy temperate vale\\nWhere oft my reed might sound\\nTo maids and shepherds round,\\nAnd all thy sons, Nature, learn my tale.\\nTHE MANSION OF REST.\\nBY THE RT. HON. CHARLES JAMES FOX,\\nI TALKED to my flattering heart,\\nAnd chid its wild wandering way* j", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a348 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nI charged it from folly to part,\\nAnd to husband the rest of its days I\\nI bade it no longer admire\\nThe meteors which fancy had dress d\\nI whisper d twas time to retire,\\nAnd seek for a Mansion of Rest.\\nA charmer was listening the while,\\nWho caught up the tone of my lay\\nO come then, she cried, with a smile,\\nAnd I ll show you the place and the way\\nI followed the witch to her home,\\nAnd vow d to be always her guest\\nNever more, I exclaim d, will I roam\\nIn search of the Mansion of Rest.\\nBut the sweetest of moments will fly,\\nNot long was my fancy beguiled\\nFor too soon I confess d, with a sigh,\\nThat the syren deceived while she smiled.\\nDeep, deep, did she stab the repose\\nOf my trusting and unwary breast.\\nAnd the door of each avenue close,\\nThat led to the Mansion of Rest.\\nThen Friendship enticed me to stray\\nThrough the long magic wilds of Romance\\nBut I found that she meant to betray,\\nAnd shrunk from the sorcerer s glance.\\nFor experience has taught me to know,\\nThat the soul that reclined on her breast,\\nMight toss on the billows of woe,\\nAnd ne er find the Mansion of Rest.\\nPleasure s path I determined to try,\\nBut Prudence I met in the way", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 249\\nConviction flash d light from her eye,\\nAnd appeared to illumine my day\\nShe cried as she shew d me a grave,\\nWith nettles and wild flowers dress d,\\nO er which the dark cypress did wave,\\nBehold there the Mansion of Re3t\u00c2\u00bb\\nShe spoke and half vanish d in air,\\nFor she saw mild Religion appear\\nWith a smile, that would banish despair,\\nAnd dry up the penitent tear.\\nDoubts and fears from my bosom were driven.\\nAnd, pressing the cross to her breast,\\nH And pointing serenely to Heaven,\\nShe show d the true Mansion of Rest.\\nTHE TEARS OF SCOTLAND,\\nBY DR. SMOLLETT.\\nMOURN, hapless Caledonia, mourn\\nThy banish d peace, thy laurels torn\\nThy sons, for valor long renown d,\\nLie slaughtered on their native ground\\nThy hospitable roofs no more\\nInvite the stranger to the door\\nK In smoky ruins sunk they lie,\\nThe monuments of cruelty\\nThe wretched owner sees, afar,\\nHis all become the prey of war 5\\nW", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "250 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nBethinks him of his babes and wife,\\nThen smites his breast, and curses life.\\nThy swains are famish d on the rocks,\\nWhere once they fed their wanton flocks\\nThy ravish d virgins shriek in vain 5\\nThy infants perish on the plain.\\nWhat boots it then, in every clime,\\nThrough the wide-spreading waste of time.\\nThy martial glory, crown d with praise,\\nStill shone with undiminish d blaze\\nThy towering spirit now is broke,\\nThy neck is bended to the yoke\\nWhat foreign arms could never quell.\\nBy civil rage and rancor fell.\\nThe rural pipe and merry lay\\nNo more shall cheer the happy day\\nNo social scenes of gay delight\\nBeguile the dreary winter night\\nNo strains, but those of sorrow, flow,\\nAnd nought be heard but sounds of woe\\nWhile the pale phantoms of the slain\\nGlide nightly o er the silent plain.\\nOh baneful cause, oh fatal morn,\\nAccursed to ages yet unborn\\nThe sons against their fathers stood\\nThe parent shed his children s blood.\\nYet, when the rage of battle ceased,\\nThe victor s soul was not appeased\\nThe naked and forlorn must feel\\nDevouring flames and murdering steel\\nThe pious mother, doom d to death,\\nForsaken, wanders o er the heath", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 251\\nThe bleak wind whistles round her head\\nHer helpless orphans cry for bread\\nBereft of shelter, food, and friend,\\nShe views the shades of night descend,\\nAnd, stretch d beneath th inclement skies,\\nWeeps o er her tender babes, and dies\\nWhilst the warm blood bedews my veins-,\\nAnd unimpaired remembrance reigns,\\nResentment of my country s fate\\nWithin my filial breast shall beat\\nAnd, spite of her insulting foe,\\nMy sympathising verse shall flow\\nMourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn\\nThy banish d peace, thy laurels torn V\\\\\\nODE TO LEVEX WATER,\\nBY DR. SMOLLETT.\\nOn Leven s banks, while free to rove.\\nAnd tune the rural pipe to love,\\nI envied not the happiest swain\\nThat ever trod tb Arcadian plain.\\nPure stream in whose transparent wave\\nMy youthful limbs I wont to lave\\nNo torrents stain thy limpid source,\\nNo rocks impede thy dimpling course,\\nThat sweetly warbles o er its bed,\\nWith white, round, polish d pebbles spread", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "252 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWhile, lightly poised, the scaly brood\\nIn myriads cleave thy crystal flood.\\nThe springing trout, in speckled pride\\nThe salmon, monarch of the tide\\nThe ruthless pike, intent on war\\nThe silver eel, and mottled par.\\nDevolving from thy parent lake,\\nA charming maze thy waters make,\\nBy bowers of birch, and groves of pine,\\nAnd hedges flower d with eglantine.\\nStill on thy banks, so gaily green,\\nMay numerous herds and flocks be seen s\\nAnd lasses chanting o er the pail\\nAnd shepherds piping in the dale\\nAnd ancient faith that knows no guile\\nAnd industry imbrown d with toil\\nAnd hearts resolved, and hands prepared;\\nThe blessings they enjoy to guard\\nRETIREMENT.\\n3Y JAMES BEATTIE, L. L. D:\\nWHEN in the crimson cloud of even.\\nThe lingering light decays,\\nAnd Hesper, on the front of heaven.\\nHis glittering gem displays\\nDeep in the silent vale, unseen,\\nBeside a lulling stream,\\npensive youth, of placid mien.\\nIndulged this tender theme.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. ?J$\\nYe cliffs, in hoary grandeur piled\\nHigh o er the glimmering dale 5\\nYe woods along whose windings wild\\nMurmurs the solemn gale\\nWhere Melancholy strays forlorn,\\nAnd Woe retires to weep,\\nWhat time the wan moon s yellow horn,\\nGleams on the western deep\\nTo you, ye wastes, whose artless charms\\nNe er drew Ambition s eye,\\nScaped a tumultuous world s alarms,\\nTo your retreats I fly.\\nDeep in your most sequester d bower\\nLet me at last recline,\\nWhere Solitude, mild, modest power*,\\nLeans on her ivied shrine.\\nHow shall I woo thee, matchless fair\\nThy heavenly smile how win\\nThy smile that smooths the brow of Ca^re,\\nAnd stills the storm within.\\n\u00e2\u0096\u00a0O wilt thou to thy favorite grove\\nThine ardent votary bring,\\nAnd bless his hours, and bid them move\\nSerene, on silent wing\\nOft let remembrance soothe his mind\\nWith dreams of former days,\\nWhen, in the lap of Peace reclined,\\nHe framed his infant lays\\nWhen Fancy roved at large, nor Care\\nNor cold Distrust alarm d, 1\\nNor Envy, with malignant glare,\\nHis simple youth had harm d.\\nW fl", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "Jli4 BEAUTffiS OF POETRY,\\nTwas then, O Solitude, to thee\\nHis early vows were paid,\\nFrom heart sincere, and warm, and free,\\nDevoted to the shade.\\n\\\\h, why did Fate his steps decoy\\nIn stormy paths to roam,\\ndemote from all congenial joy\\nO take the wanderer home.\\nThy shades, thy silence now be mine,\\nThy charms my only theme\\nMy haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine\\nWaves o er the gloomy stream.\\n~Whence the scared owl, on pinions gray?\\nBreaks from the rustling boughs*\\nAnd down the lone vale sails away\\nTo more profound repose.\\n0, while to thee the woodland pours\\nIts wildly warbling song,\\nAnd balmy, from the bank of flowerg\\nThe zephyr breathes along 5\\nLet no rude sound invade from far.\\nNo vagrant foot be nigh,\\nNo ray from Grandeur s gilded car,\\nFlash on the startled eye.\\nBut if some pilgrim, through the glade,\\nThy hallow d bowers explore,\\nO guard from harm his hoary head,\\nAnd listen to his lore\\nFor he of joys divine shall tell,\\nThat wean from earthly woe,\\n.And triumph o er the mighty spell\\nThat chains this heart below.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. -255\\nFor me, no more the path invites\\nAmbition loves to tread\\nNo more I climb those toilsome heights\\nBy guileful Hope misled\\nLeaps my fond fluttering heart no more\\nTo Mirth s enlivening strain 5\\nFor present pleasure soon is o er,\\nAnd all the past is vain.\\nTHE SPLEEM\\nJin Epistle to Mr. Cuthbert Jackson.\\nBY MR. GREEN.\\nTHIS motley piece to you I send,\\nWho always were a faithful friend 5\\nWho, if disputes should happen hence\\nCan best explain the author s sense\\nAnd, anxious for the public weal,\\nDo, what I sing, so often feel,\\nThe want of method pray excuse,\\nAllowing for a vapor d Muse\\nNor, to a narrow path confined,\\nHedge in by rules a roving mind.\\nThe child is genuine you may trace\\nThroughout the sire s transmitted face.\\nNothing is stolen my Muse, though mean,\\nDraws from the spring she finds within", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "256 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nNor vainly buys what Gildon* sells,\\nPoetic buckets for dry wells.\\nSchool -helps I want, to climb on high,\\nWhere all the ancient treasures lie,\\nAnd there, unseen, commit a theft\\nOn wealth in Greek exchequers left.\\nThen where from whom what can I steal.\\nWho only with the moderns deal\\nThis were attempting to put on\\nRaiment from naked bodies won :f\\nThey safely sing before a thief,\\nThey cannot give who want relief;\\nSome few excepted, names well knowi^.\\nAnd justly laurell d with renown,\\nWhose stamp of genius marks their ware,\\nAnd theft detects of theft beware\\nFrom More so lash d, example fit,\\nShun petty larceny in wit.\\nFirst know, my friend, I do not mean\\nTo write a treatise on the Spleen\\nNor to prescribe when nerve3 convulse\\nNor mend th alarm -watch, your pulse.\\nIf I am right, your question lay,\\nWhat course I take to drive away\\nThe day -mare Spleen, by whose false pleas\\nMen prove mere suicides in ease\\nAnd how I do myself demean^\\nIn stormy world to live serene\\nGildon s Art of Poetry.\\nf A painted vest Prince Vortiger had on,\\nWhich from a naked Pict his grandsire won.\\n/faward s British Ptinccs.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, Z5T\\nWhen, by its magic -lantern, Spleen\\nWith frightful figures spread life s scene,\\nAnd threatening prospects urged my fears,\\nA stranger to the luck of heirs\\nReason, some quiet to restore,\\nShow d part was substance, shadow more 5\\nWith Spleen s dead weight though heavy grown,\\nIn life s rough tide I sunk not down,\\nBut swam, till Fortune threw a rope,\\nBuoyant on bladders fill d with hope.\\nI always choose the plainest food\\nTo mend viscidity of blood.\\nHail water-gruel, healing power,\\nOf easy access to the poor 5\\nThy help love s confessors implore.\\nAnd doctors secretly adore\\nTo thee I fly, by thee dilute-\\nThrough veins my blood doth quicker shooC,\\nAnd by swift current throws oif clean\\nProlific particles of Spleen.\\nI never sick by drinking grow,\\nNor keep myself a cup too low,\\nAnd seldom Chloe s lodgings haunt,\\nThrifty of spirits, which I want.\\nHunting I reckon very good\\nTo brace the nerves, and stir the blood\\nBut after no field honors itch,\\nAchieved by leaping hedge and ditch.\\nWhile Spleen lies soft relax d in bed,\\nOr o er coal -fires inclines the head,\\nHygeia s sons, with hound and horn,\\nAnd jovial cry, awake the morn.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "258 BEAUTIES OF POETRY j\\nThese see her from the dusky plight,\\nSmear d by th embraces of the night,\\nWith roral wash redeem her face,\\nAnd prove herself of Titan s race,\\nAnd, mounting in loose robes the skies,\\nShed light and fragrance as she Hies.\\nThen horse and hound fierce joy display^\\nExulting at the hark-away,\\nAnd in pursuit o er tainted ground\\nFrom lungs robust field-notes resound.\\nThen, as St. George the dragon slew,\\nSpleen, pierced, trod down, and dying, view\\nWhile all their spirits are on wing,\\nAnd woods, and hills, and valleys, ring.\\nTo cure the mind s wrong bias, Spleen.,\\nSome recommend the bowling-green 5\\nSome, hilly walks 5 all, exercise\\nFling but a stone, the giant dies 5\\nLaugh and be well. Monkeys have been\\nExtreme good doctors for the Spleen 5\\nAnd kitten, if the humor hit,\\nHas Harlequin d away the fit-\\nSince mirth is good in this behalf,\\nAt some particulars let us laugh.\\nWitlings, brisk fools cursed with half sense.\\nThat stimulates their impotence\\nWho buz in rhyme, and, like blind flies.,\\nErr with their wings for want of eyes.\\nPoor authors worshipping a calf,\\nDeep tragedies that make us laugh,\\nA strict dissenter saying grace,\\nA lecturer preaching for a place,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRV. 09\\nFolks, tilings prophetic to dispense,\\nMaking the past the future tense,\\nThe popish dubbing of a priest,\\nFine epitaphs on knaves deceased,\\nGreen-apron d Pythonissa s rage,\\nGreat iEscuIapius on his stage,\\nA miser starving to be rich,\\nThe prior of Newgate s dying speech,\\nA jointured widow s ritual state,\\nTwo Jews disputing tete-a-tete^\\nNew almanacs composed by seers,\\nExperiments on felons ears,\\nDisdainful prudes, who ceaseless ply\\nThe superb muscle of the eye,\\nA coquet s April-weather face,\\nA Queensborough mayor behind his mace.\\nAnd fops in military show,\\nAre sovereign for the case in view.\\nIf spleen-fogs rise at close of day,\\nI clear my evening with a play,\\nOr to some concert take my way. J\\nThe company, the shine of lights,\\nThe scenes of humor, music s flights, S.\\nAdjust and set the soul to rights. J\\nLife s moving pictures, well-wrought play?;.\\nTo others grief attention raise\\nHere, while the tragic fictions glow,\\nWe borrow joy by pitying woe\\nThere gaily comic scenes delight,\\nAnd hold true mirrors to our sight\\nVirtue, in charming dress array dj\\nCalling the passions to her aid 5", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a760 BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nWhen moral scenes just actions join,\\nTakes shape, and shows her face divine.\\nMusic has charms, we all may find,\\nIngratiate deeply with the mind.\\nWhen art does sound s high power advance,\\nTo music s pipe the passions dance\\nMotions unwill d its powers have shown,\\nTarantulated by a tune.\\nMany have held the soul to be\\nNearly allied to harmony.\\nHer have I known indulging grief,\\nAnd shunning company s relief,\\nUnveil her face, and, looking round,\\nOwn, by neglecting sorrow s wound,\\nThe consanguinity of sound.\\nIn rainy days keep double guard,\\nOr Spleen will surely be too hard\\nWhich, like those fish by sailors met,\\nFly highest while their wings are wet.\\nIn such dull weather, so unfit\\nTo enterprise a work of wit,\\nWhen clouds one yard of azure sky,\\nThat s fit for similie, deny,\\nI dress my face with studious looks,\\nAnd shorten tedious hours with books.\\nBut if dull fogs invade the head,\\nThat memory minds not what is read.\\nI sit in window, dry as ark,\\nAnd on the drowning world remark\\nOr to some coifee-house I stray\\nFor news, the manna of a day f", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 26 1\\nAnd from the hipp d discourses gather,\\nThat politics go by the weather\\nThen seek good humor d tavern chums\\nAnd play at cards, but for small sums\\nOr with the merry fellows quaff,\\nAnd laugh aloud with them that laugh\\nOr drink a joco-serious cup,\\nWith souls who ve took their freedom up,\\nAnd let my mind, beguiled by talk,\\nIn Epicurus garden walk,\\nWho thought it heaven to be serene\\nPain, hell, and purgatory, Spleen.\\nSometimes I dress, with women sit,\\nAnd chat away the gloomy fit\\nQuit the stiff garb of serious sense,\\nAnd wear a gay impertinence,\\nNor think nor speak with any pains,\\nBut lay on fancy s neck the reins\\nTalk of unusual swell of waist\\nIn maid of honor loosely laced,\\nAnd beauty borrowing Spanish red,\\nAnd loving pair with separate bed,\\nAnd jewels pawn d for loss of ^ame,\\nAnd then redeem d by loss of fame\\nOf Kitty (aunt left in the lurch\\nBy grave pretence to go to church)\\nPerceived in hack with lover line,\\nLike Will and Mary on the coin\\nAnd thus in modish manner we,\\nIn aid of sugar, sweeten tea.\\nPermit, ye fair, your idol form.\\nWhich ev n the coldest heart can warm.\\nX", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a3G2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nMay with its beauties grace my line,\\nWhile I bow down before its shrine,\\nAnd your throng d altars with my lays\\nPerfume, and get by giving praise.\\nWith speech so sweet, so sweet a mien,\\nYou excommunicate the Spleen,\\nWhich, fiend -like, flies the magic ring\\nYou form with sound, when pleased to sing\\nWhate er you say, howe er you move,\\nWe look, we listen, and approve.\\nYour touch, which gives to feeling bliss,\\nOur nerves officious throng to kiss 5\\nBy Celia s pat, on their report,\\nThe grave air d soul, inclined to spor^\\nRenounces wisdom s sullen pomp,\\nAnd loves the floral game to romp.\\nBut who can view the pointed rays\\nThat from black eyes scintillant blaze\\nLove on his throne of glory seems\\nEncompassed with satellite beams\\nBut when blue eyes, more softly bright.\\nDiffuse benignly humid light,\\nWe gaze, and see the smiling loves,\\nAnd Cytherea s gentle doves,\\nAnd, raptured, fix in such a face,\\nMove s mercy -seat and throne of grace.\\nShine but on age, you melt its snow\\nAgain fires long extinguish d glow,\\nAnd, charin d by witchery of eyes,\\nBlood long congealed liquefies\\nTrue miracle, and fairly done\\nBy heads which are adored while on;\\nBut oh, what pity tis to find\\n\u00e2\u0099\u00a6Such beauties, both of form and mind.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 263\\nBy modern breeding much debased,\\nIn half the female world at least\\nHence I with care such lotteries shun,\\nWhere, a prize miss d, Pm quite undone\\nAnd ha n t, by venturing on a wife,\\nYet run the greatest risk in life.\\nMothers and guardian-aunts, forbear\\nYour impious pains to form the fair,\\nNor lay out so much cost and art\\nBut to deflower the virgin heart 5\\nOf every folly-fostering bed,\\nBy quickening heat of custom bred,\\nRather, than by your culture spoil M,\\nDesist and give us nature wild,\\nDelighted with a hoyden soul,\\nWhich truth and innocence control.\\nCoquets, leave off affected arts,\\nGay fowlers at a flock of hearts 5\\nWoodcocks to shun your snares have skill;\\nYou show so plain you strive to kill.\\nIn love the artless catch the game,\\nAnd they scarce miss who never aim.\\nThe world s great Author did creaie\\nThe sex to fit the nuptial state,\\nAnd meant a blessing in a wife\\nTet solace the fatigues of life\\nAnd old inspired times display\\nHow wives could love, and yet obey 5\\nThen truth, and patient of control,\\nAnd housewife arts adorn d the soul\\nAnd charms, the gift of nature, shone\\nAnd jealousy, a thing unknown", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "264 BEAUTIES OF POETRT,\\nVeils were the only masks they wore\\nNovels, (receipts to make a whore)\\nNor ombre, nor quadrille, they knew,\\nNor Pam s puissance felt at loo.\\nWise men did not, to be thought gay,.\\nThen compliment their power away\\nBut lest, by frail desires misled,\\nThe girls forbidden paths should tread,\\nOf ignorance raised the safe high Avail\\nWe sink haw-haws that show them all.\\nThus we at once solicit sense,\\nAnd charge them not to break the fence.\\nNow, if untired, consider, friend,\\nWhat I avoid to gain my end.\\nLaw -licensed breaking of the peace.\\nTo which vacation is disease\\nA gipsey diction scarce known well\\n8y th* magi who law-fortunes tell,\\nI shun nor let it breed within\\nAnxiety, and that the Spleen 5\\nLaw, grown a forest, where perplex\\nThe mazes and the brambles vex\\nWhere its twelve verderers every day\\nAre changing still the public way\\nYet if we miss our path and err,\\nWe grievous penalties incur\\nAnd wanderers tire, and tear their skin..\\nAnd then get out where they went in.\\nI never game, and rarely bet\\nAm loth to lend, or run in debt.\\nNo comptre -writs me agitate\\nWho moralizing pass the gate*", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0264.jp2"}, "265": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. \u00c2\u00a360\\nAnd there mine eyes on spendthrifts turn,\\nWho vainly o er their bondage mourn.\\nWisdom, before beneath their care,\\nPays her upbraiding visits there,\\nAnd forces Folly through the grate\\nHer panegyric to repeat.\\nThis view, profusely when inclined,\\nEnters a caveat in the mind\\nExperience join d with common sense.\\nTo mortals is a providence.\\nPassion, as frequently is seen.\\nSubsiding settles into Spleen.\\nHence, as the plague of happy life.\\nI run away from party strife.\\nA prince s cause, a church s claim.\\nI ve known to raise a mighty flame.\\nAnd priest, as stoker, very free\\nTo throw in peace and charity.\\nThat tribe whose practicals decree\\nSmall beer the deadliest heresy;\\nWho, fond of pedigree, derive\\nFrom the most noted whore alive\\nWho own wine s old prophetic aid,\\nAnd love the mitre Bacchus made,.\\nForbid the faithful to depend\\nOn half-pint drinkers for a friend,\\nAnd in whose gay red -letter d face\\nWe read good living more than grace\\nNor they, so pure, and so precise,\\nImmaculate as their white of eyes,\\nWho for the spirit hug the Spleen,\\nPhylacter d throughout all their mien,\\nX", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0265.jp2"}, "266": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a366 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWho doctrines, as infectious, fear,\\nWhich are not steep d in vinegar,\\nAnd samples of heart-chested grace\\nExpose in show-glass of the face\\nDid never me as yet provoke\\nEither to honor band and cloke,\\nOr deck my hat with leaves of oak\\nI rail not with mock -patriot grace\\nAt folks, because they are in place 5\\nNor, hired to praise with stallion pen,\\nServe the ear -lechery of men\\nBut to avoid religious jars,\\nThe laws are my expositors,\\nWhich in my doubting mind create\\nConformity to church and state\\nI go, pursuant to my plan,\\nTo Mecca with the caravan\\nAnd think it right in common sense,\\nBoth for diversion and defence.\\nReforming schemes are none of mine 5\\nTo mend the world s a vast design\\nLike theirs who tug, in little boat,\\nTo pull to them the ship afloat,\\nWhile, to defeat their labor d end,\\nAt once both wind and stream contend\\nSuccess herein is seldom seen,\\nAnd zeal, when baffled, turns to Spleen.\\nHappy the man who, innocent,\\nGrieves not at ills he can t prevent;\\nHis skiff does with the current glide,\\nNot puffing pull d against the tide.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0266.jp2"}, "267": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 9X7,\\nHe, paddling by the scuffling crowd,\\nSees unconcern d life s wager row d\\nAnd when he can t prevent foul play,\\nEnjoys the folly of the fray.\\nYet philosophic love of ease\\nI suffer not to prove disease,\\nBut rise up in the virtuous cause\\nOf a free press and equal laws.\\nThe press restrained nefaudous thought\\nIn vain our sires have nobly fought\\nWhile free from force the press remains.\\nVirtue and freedom cheer our plains,\\nAnd learning largesses bestows,\\nAnd keeps uncensured open house,\\nVVe to the nation s public mart\\nOur works of wit, and schemes of art,\\nAnd philosophic goods, this way,\\nLike water-carriage, cheap convey.\\nThis tree, which knowledge so affords.,\\nInquisitors, with flaming swords,\\nFrom lay approach with zeal defend,\\nLest their own paradise should end.\\nThe press from her fecundous womb\\nBrought forth the arts of Greece and Rome\\nHer offspring, skill d in logic war,\\nTruth s banner waved in open air\\nThe monster Superstition fled,\\nAnd hid in shades its Gorgon head\\nAnd lawless power, the long kept field,\\nBy reason quell d, was forced to yield.\\nThis nurse of arts, and freedom s fence,\\nTo chain, is treason against sense", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0267.jp2"}, "268": {"fulltext": "268 BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nAnd, Liberty, thy thousand tongues\\nNone silence, who design no wrongs\\nFor those who use the gag s restraint,\\nFirst rob before they stop complaint.\\nSince disappointment galls within,\\nAnd subjugates the soul to Spleen,\\nMost schemes, as money snares, I hate.\\nAnd bite not at projector s bait.\\nSufficient wrecks appear each day,\\nAnd yet fresh fools are cast away.\\nEre well the bubbled can turn round,\\nTheir painted vessel runs aground\\nOr in deep seas it oversets\\nBy a fierce hurricane of debts\\nOr helm directors, in one trip,\\nFreight first embezzled, sink the ship.\\nSuch was of late the Corporation,*\\nThe brazen serpent of the nation,\\nWhich, when hard accidents distress d.\\nThe poor must look at to be bless d,\\nAnd thence expect, with paper seal d\\nBy fraud and usury, to be heaPd.\\nI in no soul-consumption wait\\nWhole years at levees of the great,\\nThe Charitable Corporation, instituted for the relief of the\\nindustrious poor, by assisting- them with small sums upon pledges,\\nat legal interest. By the villany of those who had the manage-\\nment of this scheme, the proprietors were defrauded of very con-\\nsiderable sums of money. In 1732 the conduct of the directors\\nof this body became the subject of a parliamentary enquiry and\\nsome of them, who were members of the House of Commons,\\nwere expelled for their concern in this iniquitous transaction.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0268.jp2"}, "269": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 2G2\\nAnd hungry hopes regale the while\\nOn the spare diet of a smile.\\nThere you may see the idol stand\\nWith mirror in his wanton hand\\nAbove, below, now here, now there,\\nHe throws about the sunny glare.\\nCrowds pant, and press to seize the prize,\\nThe gay delusion of their eyes.\\nWhen fancy tries her limning skill,\\nTo draw and color at her will,\\nAnd raise and round the figure well,\\nAnd show her talent to excel,\\nI guard my heart, lest it should woo\\nUnreal beauties Fancy drew\\nAnd, disappointed, feel despair\\nAt loss of things that never were.\\nWhen I lean politicians mark,\\nGrazing on ether in the park,\\nWho, e er on wing with open throats,\\nFly at debates, expresses, votes,\\nJust in the manner swallows use,\\nCatching their airy food of news\\nWhose latrant stomachs oft molest\\nThe deep laid plans their dreams suggest j\\nOr see some poet pensive sit,\\nFondly mistaking Spleen for wit\\nW T ho, though short-winded, still will aim\\nTo sound the epic trump of Fame 5\\nWho still on Phoebus smiles will doat,\\nNor learn conviction from his coat\\nI bless my stars, I never knew\\nWhimsies which, close pursued, undo", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0269.jp2"}, "270": {"fulltext": "370 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAnd have, from old experience, been\\nBoth parent and the child of Spleen.\\nThese subjects of Apollo s state,\\nWho from false sire derive their fate,\\nWith airy purchases undone\\nOf lands which none lend money on,\\nBorn dull, had folio w d thriving ways.\\nNor lost one hour to gather bays.\\nTheir fancies first delirious grew,\\nAnd scenes ideal took for true\\nFine to the sight Parnassus lies,\\nAnd with false prospects cheats their eyes\\nThe fabled gods the poets sing\\nA season of perpetual spring\\nBrooks, flowery fields, and groves of trees\\nAffording sweets and similes\\nGay dreams inspired in myrtle bowers-.\\nAnd wreaths of undecaying flowers,\\nApollo s harp with airs divine,\\nThe sacred music of the Nine,\\nViews of the temple raised to Famc^\\nAnd for a vacant niche proud aim,\\nRavish their souls, and plainly show\\nWhat Fancy s sketching power can do.\\nThey will attempt the mountain steep,\\nWhere, on the top, like dreams in sleep,\\nThe Muses revelation show,\\nThat find men crack d, or make them so.\\nYou friend, like me, the trade of rhyme\\nAvoid elaborate waste of time,\\nNor are content to be undone,\\nTo pass for Phcebus crazy son.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0270.jp2"}, "271": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 271\\nPoems, the hop-grounds of the brain,\\nAfford the most uncertain gain\\nAnd lotteries never tempt the wise^,\\nWith blanks so many to a prize.\\nI only transient visits pay,\\nMeeting the Muses in my way,\\nScarce known to the fastidious dames,\\nNor skill d to call them by their names,\\nNor can their passports, in these days,\\nYour profit warrant, or your praise.\\nOn poems by their dictates writ,\\nCritics, as sworn appraisers, sit,\\nAnd mere upholsterers in a trice\\nOn gems and paintings set a price.\\nThese tailoring artists for our lays\\nInvent cramp d rules, and, with straight stays,,\\nStriving free Nature s shape to hit,\\nEmaciate sense before they fit.\\nA common-place, and many friends,\\nCan serve the plagiary s ends,\\nWhose easy vamping talent lies,\\nFirst, wit to pilfer, then disguise.\\nThus some, devoid of art and skill,\\nTo search the mine on Pindus hill,\\nProud to aspire and workmen grow.\\nBy genius doom d to stay below,\\nFor their own digging show the town\\nWit s treasure brought by others down-\\nSome wanting, if they find a mine,\\nAn artist s judgment to refine,\\nOn fame precipitately fix d,\\nThe ore, with baser metals mix d..", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0271.jp2"}, "272": {"fulltext": "2T2 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nMelt down, impatient of delay,\\nAnd call the vicious mass a play.\\nAll these engage, to serve their ends,\\nA band select of trusty friends,\\nWho, lesson d right, extol the thing,\\nAs Psapho* taught his birds to sing\\nThen to the ladies they submit,\\nReturning officers on wit\\nA crowded house their presence draws,\\nAnd on the beaux imposes laws.\\nA judgment in its favor ends,\\nWhen all the pannel are its friends\\nTheir natures, merciful and mild,\\nHave from mere pity saved the child\\nlu bulrush ark the bantling found,\\nHelpless, and ready to be drown d,\\nThey have preserved by kind support,\\nAnd brought the baby -muse to court.\\nBut there s a youthf that you can name.,\\nWho needs no leading-strings to fame\\nWhose quick maturity of brain\\nThe birth of Pallas may explain\\nDreaming of whose depending fate,\\nI heard Melpomene debate\\nPsapho was a Libyan, who, desiring to be accounted a god,\\neffected it by this means He took young- birds, and laugh them\\nto sing Psapho is a great god. When they were perfect in their\\nlesson, he let them fly and other birds learning the same ditty,\\nrepeated it in the woods on which h*s countrymen offered sacri-\\nfice to him, and considered him as a deity.\\nf Mr. Glover, the excellent author of Leonidas, Boadicea, Me-\\ndea, a", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0272.jp2"}, "273": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. S75\\nThis, this is he, that was foretold\\nShould emulate our Greeks of old.\\nInspired by me with sacred art,\\nHe sings and rules the varied heart 5\\nIf Jove s dread anger he rehearse,\\nWe hear the thunder in his verse\\nIf he describes love turn d to rage,,\\nThe furies riot in his page\\nIf he fair liberty and law\\nBy ruffian power expiring, draw,\\nThe keener passions then engage\\nAright, and sanctify their rage\\nIf he attempt disastrous love,\\nWe hear those plaints that wound the giG\\\\e\u00c2\u00ab\\nWithin the kinder passions glow,\\nAnd tears distill d from pity flow.\\nFrom the bright vision I descend*\\nAnd my deserted theme attend.\\nMe never did ambition seize,\\nStrange fever most inflamed by ease\\nThe active lunacy of pride,\\nThat courts jilt Fortune for a bride,\\nThis paradise-tree, so fair and high,\\n1 view with no aspiring eye\\nLike aspen shake the restless leaves,\\nAnd Sodom-fruit our pain deceives.\\nWhence frequent falls give no surprise,\\nBut fits of Spleen, call d growing wise.\\nGreatness in glittering forms display d\\nAffects weak eyes much used to shade,\\nAnd by its falsely envied scene\\nGives self-debasing fits of Spleen.\\nY", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0273.jp2"}, "274": {"fulltext": "274 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nVVe should be pleased that things are so,\\nWho do for nothing see the show,\\nAnd, middle-sized, can pass between\\nLife s hubbub safe, because unseen,\\nAnd midst the glare of greatness trace\\nA watery sunshine in the face,\\nAnd pleasures fled to, to redress\\nThe sad fatigue of idleness.\\nContentment, parent of delight,\\nSo much a stranger to our sight,\\nSay, goddess, in what happy place\\nMortals behold thy blooming face\\nThy gracious auspices impart,\\nAnd for thy temple choose my heart I\\nThey whom thou deignest to inspire,\\nThy science learn, to bound desire 5\\nBy happy alchemy of mind\\nThey turn to pleasure all they find 5\\nThey both disdain in outward mien\\nThe grave and solemn garb of Spleen,\\nAnd meretricious arts of dress,\\nTo feign a joy and hide distress\\nUnmoved when the rude tempest blows,\\nWithout an opiate they repose\\nAnd, covered by your shield, defy\\nThe whizzing shafts that round them fly\\nNor meddling with the gods affairs,\\nConcern themselves with distant cares 5\\nBut place their bliss in mental rest,\\nAnd feast upon the good possess d.\\nForced by soft violence of prayer,\\nThe blithesome goddess soothes my care.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0274.jp2"}, "275": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY, 2TS\\nI feel the deity inspire,\\nAnd thus she models my desire\\nTwo hundred pounds half-yearly paid,\\nAnnuity securely made,\\nA farm some twenty miles from town,\\nSmall, tight, salubrious, and my own 3\\nTwo maids that never saw the town,\\nA serving man not quite a clown,\\nA boy to help to tread the mow,\\nAnd drive while t other holds the plow,\\nA chief, of temper form d to please,\\nFit to converse, and keep the keys\\nAnd, better to preserve the peace,\\nCom missioned by the name of niece\\nWith understandings of a size\\nTo think their master very wise.\\nMay Heaven tis all I wish for) send\\nOne genial room to treat a friend,\\nWhere decent cupboard, little plate,\\nDisplay benevolence, not state.\\nAnd may my humble dwelling stand\\nUpon some chosen spot of land\\nA pond before, full to the brim,\\nWhere cows may cool, and geese may swim\\nBehind, a green like velvet neat,\\nSoft to the eye and to the feet\\nWhere odorous plants, in evening fair,\\nBreathe all around ambrosial air 5\\nFrom Eurus, foe to kitchen ground,\\nFenced by a slope with bushes crown d.\\nFit dwelling for the feather d throng,\\nWho pay their quit-rents with a song\\nWith opening views of hill and dale,\\nWhiCxi sense and fancy too regale,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0275.jp2"}, "276": {"fulltext": "sr6 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWhere the half-cirque which vision bounds\\nX.ike amphitheatre surrounds\\nAnd woods impervious to the breeze,\\nThick phalanx of embodied trees\\nFrom hills, through plains, in dusk array\\nExtended far, repel the day.\\nMere stillness, height, and solemn shade.\\nInvite, and contemplation aid.\\nHere nymphs from hollow oaks relate\\nThe dark decrees and will of Fate\\nAnd dreams beneath the spreading beeci\\nInspire, and docile fancy teach,\\nWhile, soft as breezy breath of wind.\\nImpulses rustle through the mind\\nHere Dryads, scorning Phoebus ray,\\nWhile Pan melodious pipes away,\\nIn measured motions frisk about,\\nTill old Silenus puts them out.\\nThere see the clover, pea, and bean,\\nVie in variety of green 3\\nFresh pastures speckled o er with sheep.\\nBrown fields their fallow sabbaths keep,\\nPlump Ceres golden tresses wear,\\nAnd poppy top -knots deck her hair,\\nAnd silver streams through meadows stray.\\nAnd Naiads on the margin play,\\nAnd lesser nymphs on side of hills\\nFrom plaything urns pour down the rills.\\nThus shelter d, free from care and strife.\\nMay I enjoy a calm through life 5\\nSee faction, safe in low degree,\\nAs men at land see storms at sea,\\nAnd laugh at miserable elves,\\nNot kind so much as to themselves", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0276.jp2"}, "277": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. %?T\\nCursed with such souls of base alloy.\\nAs can possess, but not enjoy;\\nDebarr d the pleasure to impart,\\nBy avarice, sphincter of the heart,\\nWho wealth, hard-earn d by guilty cares*\\nBequeath untouch d to thankless heirs.\\nMay I, with look ungloom d by guile,\\nAnd wearing virtue s livery smile,\\nProne the distressed to relieve,\\nAnd little trespasses forgive,\\nWith income not in Fortune s power,\\nAnd skill to make a busy hour,\\nWith trips to town, life to amuse,\\nTo purchase books, and hear the news\\nTo see old friends, brush off the clown,\\nAnd quicken taste at coming down 5\\nUnhurt by sickness blasting rage,\\nAnd slowly mellowing in age,\\nWhen fate extends its gathering gripe,\\nFall off like fruit grown fully ripe 5\\nQuit a worn being without pain,\\nPerhaps to blossom soon again.\\nBut now more serious see me grow,\\nAnd what I think, my Memmius, know.\\nTh enthusiast s hope, and raptures wild.\\nHave never yet my reason foil d.\\nHis springy soul dilates like air,\\nWhen free from weight of ambient care 5\\nAnd hush d in meditation deep,\\nSlides into dreams, as when asleep\\nThen, fond of new discoveries grown,\\nProves a Columbus of her own,\\nY 2", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0277.jp2"}, "278": {"fulltext": "27* BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nDisdains the narrow bounds of place,\\nAnd through the wilds of endless space.\\nBorne up on metaphysic wings,\\nChases light forms and shadowy things,\\nAnd, in the vague excursion caught,\\nBrings home some rare exotic thought-.\\nThe melancholy man such dreams\\nAs brightest evidence esteems\\nFain would he see some distant scene\\nSuggested by his restless Spleen,\\nAnd Fancy s telescope applies\\nWith tinctured glass to cheat his eyes.\\nSuch thoughts as love the gloom of night,\\nI close examine by the light\\nFor who, though bribed by gain to lie,\\nDare sun-beam written truths deny,\\nAnd execute plain common sense\\nOn faith s mere hearsay evidence r\\nThat superstition mayn t create\\nAnd club its ills with those of fate,\\nI many a notion take to task,\\nMade dreadful by its visor-mask.\\nThus scruple, spasm of the mind,\\nIs cured, and certainty I find.\\nSince optic reason shews me plain r\\nA dreaded spectres of the brain,\\nAnd legendary fears are gone,\\nThough in tenacious childhood sown 5\\nThus in opinions I commence\\nFreeholder in the proper sense,\\nAnd neither suit nor service do,\\nNor homage to pretenders show..", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0278.jp2"}, "279": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWho boast themselves by spurious roll\\nLords of the manor of the soul\\nPreferring sense from chin that s bare,\\nTo nonsense throned in whisker d hair.\\nTo thee, Creator uncreate,\\nO Enfium Ens I divinely great\\nHold, Muse, nor melting pinions. try,\\nNor near the blazing glory fly,\\nNor straining break thy feeble bow,\\nUnfeather d arrows far to throw\\nThrough fields unknown not madly stray,\\nWhere no ideas mark the way.\\nWith tender eyes, and colors faint,\\nAnd trembling hands, forbear to paint.\\nWho features veil d by light can hit\\nWhere can, what has no outline, sit\\nMy soul, the vain attempt forego,\\nThyself, the fitter subject, know.\\nHe wisely shuns the bold extreme,\\nWho soon lays by th unequal theme,\\nNor runs, with wisdom s Syrens caught,\\nOn quicksands swallowing shipwreck d thought j\\nBut, conscious of his distance, gives\\nMute praise, and humble negatives.\\nIn one, no object of our sight,\\nImmutable and infinite,\\nWho can t be cruel or unjust,\\nCalm and resign d, I fix my trust\\nTo him my past and present state\\nI owe, and must my future fate.\\nA stranger into life I m come\\nDying may be our going home,?", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0279.jp2"}, "280": {"fulltext": "280 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nTransported here by angry Fate,\\nThe convicts of a prior state.\\nHence I no anxious thoughts bestow\\nOn matters I can never know\\nThrough life s foul way, like vagrant pass d,\\nHe ll grant a settlement at last,\\nAnd with sweet ease the wearied crown,\\nBy leave to lay his being down.\\nIf doom d to dance th eternal round\\nOf life, no sooner lost but found,\\nAnd dissolution soon to come,\\nLike spunge, wipes out life s present sum,\\nBut can t our state of power bereave\\nAn endless series to receive 5\\nThen, if hard dealt with here by fate,\\nWe balance in another state,\\nAnd consciousness must go along,\\nAnd sign th acquittance for the wrong.\\nHe for his creatures must decree\\nMore happiness than misery,\\nOr be supposed to create,\\nCurious to try what tis to hate\\nAnd do an act which rage infers,\\nCause lameness halts, or blindness errs.\\nThus, thus I steer my bark, and sail\\nOn even keel with gentle gale 5\\nAt helm I make my reason sit,\\nMy crew of passions all submit.\\nIf dark and blustering prove some nights,\\nPhilosophy puts forth her lights\\nExperience holds the cautious glass,\\nTo shun the breakers as I pass,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0280.jp2"}, "281": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 28 i\\nAnd frequent throws the wary lead,\\nTo see what dangers may be hid\\nAnd once in seven years I m seen\\nAt Bath or Tunbridge, to careen.\\nThough pleased to see the dolphins play,\\nI mind my compass and my way,\\nWith store sufficient for relief,\\nAnd wisely still prepared to reef,\\nNor wanting the dispersive bowl\\nOf cloudy weather in the soul,\\nI make, (may Heaven propitious send\\nSuch wind. and weather to the end)\\nNeither becalm d, nor overblown,\\nLife s Toyage to the world unknown.\\nLUCY AND COLIN\\nBY THOMAS TICKELL, ESQ.\\nOF Leinster, famed for maidens fair,\\nBright Lucy was the grace\\nNor e er did Liffy s limpid stream\\nReflect so fair a face\\nTill luckless love, and pining care.\\nImpair d her rosy hue,\\nHer coral lips, and damask cheek*\\nAnd eyes of glossy blue.\\nOh have you seen a lily pale,\\n^Y\\\\\\\\ i n beating rains descend", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0281.jp2"}, "282": {"fulltext": "\u00c2\u00a382 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nSo droop d the slow -consuming maid\\nHer life now near its end.\\nBy Lucy warn d, of flattering swains\\nTake heed, ye easy fair\\nOf vengeance due to broken vows,\\nYe perjured swains, beware.\\nThree times, all in the dead of night,\\nA bell was heard to ring\\nAnd at her window shrieking thrice,\\nThe raven fiapp d his wing.\\nToo well the love-lorn maiden knew\\nThe solemn boding sound\\nAnd thus, in dying words, bespoke\\nThe virgins weeping round\\nw I hear a voice you cannot hear,\\nWhich says I must not stay\\nI see a hand you cannot see,\\nWhich beckons me away.\\nBy a false heart, and broken vows.\\nIn early youth I die\\nAm I to blame, because his bride\\nIs thrice as rich as I\\nAh Colin, give her not thy vows\\nVows due to me alone\\nNor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss,\\nNor think him all thy own.\\nTo-morrow in the church to wed,\\nImpatient both prepare\\nBut know, fond maid, and know, false mail.\\nThat Lucy will be there,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0282.jp2"}, "283": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 283\\nThen bear my corse ye comrades, bear,\\nThe bridegroom blithe to meet\\nHe in his wedding trim so gay,\\nI in my winding sheet.\\nShe spoke, she died her corse was borne.\\nThe bridegroom blithe to meet 5\\nHe in his wedding trim so gay,\\nShe in her winding sheet.\\nThen what were perjured Colin s thoughts\\nHow were those nuptials kept\\nThe bride-men flock d round Lucy dead,\\nAnd all the village wept.\\nConfusion, shame, remorse, despair,\\nAt once his bosom swell\\nThe damps of death bedew d his brow,\\nHe shook, he groan d, he fell.\\nFrom the vain bride (a bride no more)\\nThe varying crimson fled,\\nWhen, stretch d before her rival s corse,\\nShe saw her husband dead.\\nThen to his Lucy s new-made grave\\nConvey d by trembling swains,\\nOne mould with her, beneath one sod,\\nFor ever now remains\\nOft on their grave the constant hind\\nAnd plighted maid are seen 5\\nWith garlands gay, and true-love knots,\\nThev deck the sacred green.\\nBut swain forsworn, whoe er thou art,\\nThis hallow d spot forbear\\nJlemember Colin s dreadful fate,\\nAnd fear to meet Mm there.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0283.jp2"}, "284": {"fulltext": "284 BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nWINDSOR FOREST.\\nBY ALEXANDER POPE, ESQ.\\nTHY forests, Windsor and thy green retreats,\\nAt once the monarch s and the Muses seats,\\nInvite my lays. Be present, sylvan maids\\nUnlock your springs, and open all your shades.\\nGranville commands your aid, O Muses bring\\nWhat Muse for Granville can refuse to sing\\nThe groves of Eden, vanish d now so long,\\nLive in description, and look green in song\\nThese, were my breast inspired with equal flair-e.\\nLike them in beauty, should be like in fame.\\nHere hills and vales, the woodland and the plain,\\nHere earth and water seem to strive again\\nNot, chaos -like, together crush d and bruised,\\nBut, as the world, harmoniously confused\\nWhere order in variety we see,\\nAnd where, though all things differ, all agree.\\nHere waving groves a checker d scene display,\\nAnd part admit, and part exclude the day\\nAs some coy nymph her lover s warm address\\nNor quite indulges, nor can quite repress\\nThere, interspersed in lawns and opening glades,\\nThin trees arise that shun each other s shades\\nHere, in full light, the russet plains extend\\nThere, wrapp d in clouds, the bluish hills ascend.\\nEv n the wild heath displays her purple dyes,\\nAnd midst the desert fruitful fields arise,\\nThat, crown d with tufted trees and fringing corn.\\nLike verdant isles, the sable waste adorn.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0284.jp2"}, "285": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 285\\nLet India boast her plants, nor envy we\\nThe weeping amber or the balmy tree,\\nWhile by our oaks the precious loads are borne,\\nAnd realms commanded which those trees adorn,\\nNot proud Olympus yields a nobler sight,\\nThough gods assembled grace his towering height.\\nThan what more humble mountains offer here,\\nWhere, in their blessings, all those gods appear.\\nSee Pan with flocks, with fruits Pomona crown d\\nHere blushing Flora paints th enamell d ground\\nHere Ceres gifts in waving prospect stand,\\nAnd, nodding, tempt the joyful reaper s hand;\\nRich Industry sits smiling on the plains,\\nAnd Peace and Plenty tell, a Stuart reigns.\\nNot thus the land appear d in ages past,\\nA dreary desert, and a gloomy waste\\nTo savage beasts and savage laws a prey,\\nAnd kings more furious and severe than they;\\nWho claim d the skies, dispeopled air and floods,\\nThe lonely lords of empty wilds and woods\\nCities laid waste, they storm d the dens and caves\\n(For wiser brutes were backward to be slaves.)\\nWhat could be free, when lawless beasts obey d,\\nAnd ev n the elements a tyrant sway d\\nIn vain kind seasons swell d the teeming grain,\\nSoft showers distill d, and suns grew warm in vain\\nThe swain with tears his frustrate labor yields,\\nAnd famislrd dies amidst his ripen d fields.\\nWhat wonder, then, a beast or subject slain\\nWere equal crimes in a despotic reign\\nBoth, doom d alike, for sportive tyrant* bled;\\nBut, while the subject starved, the beast was fed.\\nZ", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0285.jp2"}, "286": {"fulltext": "286 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nProud Nimrod first the bloody chase began\\nA mighty hunter, and his prey was man\\nOur haughty Norman boasts that barbarous name.\\nAnd makes his trembling slaves the royal game.\\nThe fields are ravish d from th industrious swains\\nTrom men their cities, and from gods their fanes\\nThe levell d towns with weeds lie cover d o er\\nThe hollow winds through naked temples roar 5\\nRound broken columns clasping ivy twined\\nO er heaps of ruins stalk d the stately hind 5\\nThe fox obscene to gaping tombs retires\\nAnd savage howlings fill the sacred quires.\\nAwed by his nobles, by his commons cursed,\\nTh oppressor ruled tyrannic where he durst\\nStretch d o er the poor and church his iron rod,\\nAnd served alike his vassals and his God.\\nWhom ev n the Saxon spared, and bloody Dane\\nThe wanton victims of his sport remain.\\nBut see the man who spacious regions gave\\nA waste for beasts, himself denied a grave\\nStretch d on the lawn, his second hope survey,\\nAt once the chaser, and at once the prey\\nLo Rufus, tugging at the deadly dart,\\nBleeds in the forest, like a wounded hart.\\nSucceeding monarchs heard the subject s cries,\\nNor saw displeased the peaceful cottage rise.\\nThen gathering flocks on unknown mountains fed,\\nO er sandy wilds were yellow harvests spread\\nThe forests wonder d at th unusual grain,\\nAnd secret transport touch d the conscious swain,\\nFair Liberty, Britannia s goddess, rears\\ntier, cheerful head, and leads the golden years-", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0286.jp2"}, "287": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 287*.\\nYe vigorous swains while youth ferments your blood,\\nAnd purer spirits swell the sprightly flood,\\nNow range the hills, the gameful woods beset,\\nWind the shrill horn, or spread the waving net.\\nWhen milder autumn summer s heat succeeds,\\nAnd in the new-shorn field the partridge feeds,\\nBefore his lord the ready spaniel bounds,\\nPanting with hope, he tries the furrow d grounds J\\nBut when the tainted gales the game betray,\\nCouch d close he lies, and meditates the prey\\nSecure, they trust th unfaithful field beset,\\nTill, hovering o er them, sweeps the swelling net.\\nThus (if small things we may with great compare)\\nWhen Albion sends her eager sons to war,\\nSome thoughtless town, with ease and plenty bless d,\\nNear and more near the closing lines invest\\nSudden they seize th amazed, defenceless prize,\\nAnd high in air Britannia s standard flies.\\nSee from the brake the whirring pheasant springs.\\nAnd mounts, exulting, on triumphant wings\\nShort is his joy 5 he feels the fiery wound,\\nFlutters in blood, and panting beats the ground.\\nAh what avails his glossy varying dyes,\\nHis purple crest, and scarlet-circled eyes\\nThe vivid green his shining plumes unfold,\\nHis painted wings, and breast that flames with gold!\\nNor yet, when moist Arcturus clouds the sky,\\nThe woods and fields their pleasing toils deny.\\nTo plains with well-breath d beagles we repair,\\nAnd trace the mazes of the circling hare\\n(Beasts, urged by us their fellow beasts pursue,\\nAnd learn of man each other to undo.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0287.jp2"}, "288": {"fulltext": "288 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nWith slaughtering guns th unwearied fowler rove?.\\nWhen frosts have whiten d all the naked groves,\\nWhere doves in flocks the leafless trees o ershade,\\nAnd lonely woodcocks haunt the watery glade.\\nHe lifts the tube, and levels with his eye\\nStraight a short thunder breaks the frozen sky\\nOft. as in airy rings they skim the heath,\\nThe clamorous lapwings feci the leaden death\\nOft, as the mounting larks their notes prepare a\\nThey fall, and leave their little lives in air.\\nIn genial spring, beneath the quivering shade.\\nWhere cooling vapors breathe along the mead,\\nThe patient fisher takes his silent stand,\\nIntent, his angle trembling in his hand\\nWith looks unmoved, he hopes the scaly breed.\\nAnd eves the dancing cork and bending reed.\\nOur plenteous streams a various race supply,\\nThe bright-eyed perch, with fins of Tyrian dye,\\nThe silver eel, in shining volumes roll d,\\nThe yellow carp, in scales bedropp d with gold,\\nSwift trout, diversified with crimson stains,\\nAnd pikes, the tyrants of the watery plains.\\nNow Cancer glows with Phoebus fiery car\\nThe youth rush eager to the sylvan war,\\nSwarm o er the lawns, the forest walks surround,\\nRouse the fleet hart, and cheer the opening hound.\\nTh impatient courser pants in every vein,\\nAnd pawing, seems to beat the distant plain\\nHills, vales, and floods appear already cross d,\\nAnd, ere he starts, a thousand steps are lost.\\nSee the bold youth strain up the threatening steep,\\nRush through the thickets, down the valleys sweep,", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0288.jp2"}, "289": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 28^\\nHang o er their coursers heads with eager speed 5\\nAnd earth rolls back beneath the flying steed.\\nLet old Arcadia boast her ample plain,\\nTh immortal huntress, and her virgin train 5\\nNor envy, Windsor, since thy shades have seen\\nAs bright a goddess, and as chaste a queen\\nWhose care, like hers, protects the sylvan reign\\nThe earth s fair light, and empress of the main.\\nHere too, tis sung, of old Diana stray d,\\nAnd Cynthus top forsook for Windsor shade\\nHere was she seen o er airy wastes to rove,\\nSeek the clear spring, or haunt the pathless grove\\nHere, arm d with silver bows, in early dawn,\\nHer buskin d virgins traced the dewy lawn.\\nAbove the rest a rural nymph was famed,\\nThy offspring, Thames the fair Lodona named\\n(Lodona s fate, in long oblivion cast,\\nThe Muse shall sing, and what she sings shall last,}\\nScarce could the goddess from her nymph be known\\nBut by the crescent, and the golden zone.\\nShe scorn d the praise of beauty, and the care\\nA belt her waist, a fillet binds her hair\\nA pointed quiver on her shoulder sounds,\\nAnd with her dart the flying deer she wounds.\\nIt chanced, as, eager of the chase, the maid\\nBeyond the forest s verdant limits stray d,\\nPan saw, and loved and, burning with desire,\\nPursued her flight her flight increased his fire.\\nNot half so swift the trembling doe can fly,\\nWhen the fierce eagle cleaves the liquid sky;\\nNot half so swiftly the fierce eagle moves,\\nWhen through the clouds he drives the trembling doves,\\nZ 3", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0289.jp2"}, "290": {"fulltext": "290 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nAs from the god she flew with furious pace,\\nOr as the god, more furious, urged the chase.\\nNow fainting, sinking, pale, the nymph appears j\\nNow, close behind, his sounding steps she hears\\nAnd now his shadow reach d her as she run,\\nHis shadow, lengthened by the setting sun\\nAnd now his shorter breath, with sultry air,\\nPants on her neck, and fans her parting hair.\\nIn vain on father Thames she calls for aid,\\nNor could Diana help her injured maid.\\nFaint, breathless, thus she pray d, nor pray d in vain\\nAh Cynthia ah though banish d from thy train,\\nLet me, O let me to the shades repair,\\nu My native shades there weep, and murmur there.\\nShe said, and melting as in tears she lay,\\nIn a soft silver stream dissolved away.\\nThe silver stream her virgin coldness keeps,\\nFor ever murmurs, and for ever weeps\\nStill bears the name the hapless virgin bore,\\nAnd bathes the forest where she ranged before.\\nIn her chaste current oft the goddess laves,\\nAnd with celestial tears augments the waves.\\nOft in her glass the musing shepherd spies\\nThe headlong mountains and the downward skies\\nThe watery landscape of the pendent woods,\\nAnd absent trees that tremble in the floods\\nIn the clear azure gleam the flocks are seen,\\nAnd floating forests paint the waves with green\\nThrough the fair scene roll slow the lingering streams,\\nThen foaming pour along, and rush into the Thames.\\nThou, too, great father of the British floods J\\nWith joyful pride survey st our lofty woods", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0290.jp2"}, "291": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 291\\nWhere towering oaks their growing honors rear,\\nAnd future navies on thy shores appear^\\nNot Neptune s self from all her streams receives\\nA wealthier tribute than to thine he gives.\\nNo seas so rich, so gay no banks appear,\\nNo lake so gentle, and no spring so clear\\nNor Po so swells the fabling poet s lays,\\nWhile led along the skies his current strays,\\nAs thine, which visits Windsor s famed abodes,\\nTo grace the mansion of our earthly gods\\nNor all his stars above a lustre show,\\nLike the bright beauties on thy banks below\\nWhere Jove, subdued by mortal passion still,\\nMight change Olympus for a nobler hill.\\nHappy the man whom this bright court approves.\\nHis sovereign favors, and his country loves\\nHappy next him, who to these shades retires,\\nWhom nature charms, and whom the Muse inspires\\nWhom humble joys of home-felt quiet please^\\nSuccessive study, exercise, and ease.\\nHe gathers health from herbs the forest yields.\\nAnd of their fragrant physic spoils the fields\\nWith chemic arts exalts the mineral powers,\\nAnd draws the aromatic souls of flowers\\nNow marks the course of rolling orbs on high\\nO er figured worlds now travels with his eye\\nOf ancient writ unlocks the learned store,\\nConsults the dead, and lives past ages o er\\nOr, wandering thoughtful in the silent wood,\\nAttends the duties of the wise and good,\\nT observe a mean, be to himself a friend;\\nTo follow nature, and regard bis end", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0291.jp2"}, "292": {"fulltext": "292 BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nOr looks on heaven with more than mortal eyes v\\nBids his free soul expatiate in the skies,\\nAmid her kindred stars familiar roam,\\nSurvey the region, and confess her home\\nSuch was the life great Scipio once admired,\\nThus Atticus and Trumbal thus retired.\\nYe sacred Nine that all my soul possess,\\nWhose raptures fire me, and whose visions bless,\\nBear me, oh bear me to sequester d scenes,\\nThe bowery mazes and surrounding greens\\nTo Thames s banks which fragrant breezes fill,\\nOr where ye Muses sport on Cooper s Hill.\\n(On Cooper s Hill eternal wreaths shall grow,\\nWhile lasts the mountain, or while Thames shall flow.)\\nI seem through consecrated walks to rove,\\nI hear soft music die along the grove\\nLed by the sound, I roam from shade to shade,\\nBy godlike poets venerable made\\nHere his first lays majestic Denham sung\\nThere the last numbers flow d from Cowley s tongue.\\nO early lost what tears the river shed,\\nWhen the sad pomp along his banks was led\\nHis drooping swans on every note expire,\\nAnd on his willows hung each Muse s lyre.\\nSince fate relentless stopp d their heavenly voice,\\nNo more the forests ring, or groves rejoice\\nWho now shall charm the shades where Cowley strung*\\nHis living harp, and lofty Denham sung\\nBut hark the groves rejoice, the forest rings\\nAre these revived or is it Granville sings\\nr Tis yours, my Lord, to bless our soft retreats,\\nAnd call the Muses to their ancient seats", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0292.jp2"}, "293": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. 29$\\nTo paint anew the flowery sylvan scenes,\\nTo crown the forests with immortal greens,\\nMake Windsor hills in lofty numbers rise,\\nAnd lift her turrets nearer to the skies\\nTo sing those honors you deserve to wear,\\nAnd add new lustre to her silver star.\\nHere noble Surrey felt the sacred rage,\\nSurrey the Granville of a former age\\nMatchless his pen, victorious was his lance,\\nBold in the lists, and graceful in the dance\\nIn the same shades the Cupids tuned his lyre,\\nTo the same notes, of love and soft desire\\nFair Geraldine, bright object of his vow,\\nThen fill d the groves, as heavenly Mira now.\\nOh wouldst thou sing what heroes Windsor bor\u00c2\u00a3,\\nWhat kings first breathed upon her winding shore,\\nOr raise old warriors, whose adored remains\\nIn weeping vaults her hallow d earth contains\\nWith Edward s acts adorn the shining page,\\nStretch his long triumphs down through every age.\\nDraw monarchs chain d, and Cressy s glorious field,\\nThe lilies blazing on the regal shield\\nThen from her roofs when Verrio s colors fall.\\nAnd leave inanimate the naked wall,\\nStill in thy song should vanquish d France appear,\\nAnd bleed for ever under Britain s spear.\\nLet softer strains ill-fated Henry mourn,\\nAnd palms eternal flourish round his urn.\\nHere o er the martyr king the marble weeps,\\nAnd fast, beside him, once-fear d Edward sleeps\\nWhom not th extended Albion could contain,\\nFrom old Belerium to the northern main.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0293.jp2"}, "294": {"fulltext": "S M BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThe grave unites where ev n the great find rest,\\nAnd blended lie th oppressor and th oppress d\\nMake sacred Charles s tomb for ever known,\\n(Obscure the place, and uninscribed the stone\\nOh fact accursed what tears has Albion shed\\nHeavens, what new wounds and how her old have\\nbled!\\nShe saw her sons with purple deaths expire,\\nHer sacred domes involved in rolling fire,\\nA dreadful series of intestine wars,\\nInglorious triumphs, and dishonest scars.\\nAt length great Anna said Let discord cease I\\nShe said, the world obey d, and all was peace\\nIn that blest moment, from his oozy bed\\nOld father Thames advanced his reverend head\\nHis tresses dropp d with dews, and o er the stream\\nHis shining horns diffused a golden gleam\\n(graved on his urn appear d the moon, that guides\\nHis swelling waters and alternate tides\\nThe figured streams in waves of silver roll d,\\nAnd on her banks Augusta rose in gold;\\nAround his throne the sea-born brothers stoodj\\nWho swell d with tributary urns his flood\\nFirst, the famed authors of his ancient name*\\nThe winding Isis and the fruitful Thame\\nThe Kennet swift, for silver eels renown d\\nThe Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown d 5\\nCole, whose dark streams his flowery islands lave\\nAnd chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave\\nThe blue, transparent Vandalis appears;\\nThe gulfy Lee his sedgy tresses rears\\nAnd sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood\\nAnol silent Darent, stain d with Danish blood..", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0294.jp2"}, "295": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. \u00c2\u00a395\\nHigh in the midst, upon his urn reclined,\\nHis sea-green mantle waving with the wind)\\nThe god appear d he turn d his azure eyes\\nWhere Windsor domes and pompous turrets rise\\nThen bow d and spoke the winds forgot to roar,\\nAnd the hush d waves glide softly to the shore.\\nHail, sacred Peace hail, long-expected days,\\nThat Thames s glory to the stars shall raise\\nThough Tyber s streams immortal Rome behold,\\nThough foaming Hermus swells with tides of gold,\\nFrom heaven itself though seven-fold Nilus flows,\\nAnd harvests on a hundred realms bestows\\nThese now no more shall be the Muse s themes,\\nLost in my fame, as in the sea their streams.\\nLet Volga s banks with iron squadrons shine.\\nAnd groves of lances glitter on the Rhine\\nLet barbarous Ganges arm a servile train\\nBe mine the blessings of a peaceful reign.\\nNo more my sons shall dye with British blood\\nRed Iber s sands, or Ister s foaming flood\\nvSafe on my shore, each unmolested swain\\nShall tend the flocks, or reap the bearded grain\\nThe shady empire shall retain no trace\\nOf war or blood, but in the sylvan chase\\nThe trumpet sleep, while cheerful horns are blown.\\nAnd arms employ d on birds and beasts alone.\\nBehold th ascending villas on my side\\nProject long shadows o-er the crystal tide.\\nBehold Augusta s glittering spires increase,\\nAnd temples rise, the heauteous work* peace.\\nI see, I see, where two fair cities bend\\nTheir ample bow, a new Whitehall ascend", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0295.jp2"}, "296": {"fulltext": "J3G BEAUTIES OF POETRY.\\nThere mighty nations shall enquire their doom,\\nThe world s great oracle in times to come\\nThere kings shall sue, and suppliant states be seen\\nOnce more to bend before a British queen.\\nThy trees, fair Windsor now shall leave their woods\\nAnd half thy forests rush into thy floods,\\nBear Britain s thunder, and her cross display,\\nTo the bright regions of the rising day\\nTempt icy seas, where scarce the waters roll,\\nWhere clearer flames glow round the frozen pole\\nOr under southern skies exalt their sails,\\nLed by new stars, and borne by spicy gales\\nFor me the balm shall bleed, and amber flow\\nThe coral redden, and the ruby glow,\\nThe pearly shell its lucid globe infold,\\nAnd Phoebus warm the ripening ore to gold.\\nThe time shall come, when, free as seas or wind)\\nUnbounded Thames shall flow for all mankind\\nWhole nations enter with each swelling tide,\\nAnd seas but join the regions they divide;\\nEarth s distant ends our glory shall behold,\\nAnd the new world launch forth to seek the old.\\nThen ships of uncouth form shall stem the tide,\\nAnd feather d people crowd my wealthy side,\\nAnd naked youths and painted chiefs admire\\nOur speech, our color, and our strange attire\\nOh stretch thy reign, fair Peace from shore to shore,\\nTill conquest cease, and slavery be no more\\nTill the freed Indians, in their native groves,\\nReap their own fruits, and woo their sable loves\\nPeru once more a race of kings behold,\\nAnd other Mexicos be roof d with gold", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0296.jp2"}, "297": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nExiled by thee from earth to BeepeSt hell,\\nIn brazen bonds shall barbarous Discord dwell\\nGigantic Pride, pale Terror, gloomy Care,\\nAnd mad Ambition, shall attend her there\\nThere purple Vengeance bathed in gore retires.\\nHer weapons blunted, and extinct her fires\\nThere hateful Envy her own snakes shall feel\\nAnd Persecution mourn her broken wheel\\nThere Faction roar, Rebellion bite her chain\\nAnd gasping Furies thirst for blood in vain.\\nHere cease thy flight, nor with unhallow d la y\\nTouch the fair fame of Albion s golden days\\nThe thoughts of gods let Granville s verse recite,.\\nAnd bring the scenes of opening fate to light\\nMy humble Muse, in unambitious strains,\\nPaints the green forests and the flowery plains.\\nWhere Peace descending bids her olives spring,\\nAnd scatters blessings from her dove-like win*.\\nEv n I more sweetly pass my careless days,\\nPleased in the silent shade with empty praise.;\\nEnough for me, that to the listening swains\\nFirst in these fields I sung the sylvan strains.\\n.3 NIGHT PIECE.\\nBY MISS CARTER.\\nWHILE night in solemn shade invests the pole.,\\nAnd calm reflection soothes the pensive soul\\nWhile reason, undisturb d, asserts her sway.\\nAi\\\\d life s deceitful colors fade away\\nA a", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0297.jp2"}, "298": {"fulltext": "298 BEAUTIES OF POETRY,\\nTo thee, All-conscious Presence I devote\\nThis peaceful interval of sober thought\\nHere all my better faculties confine\\nAnd be this hour of sacred silence thine\\nIf, by the day s illusive scenes misled,\\nMv erring soul from virtue s path has stray dj\\nSnared by example, or by passion warm d,\\nvSome false delight my giddy sense has charm d;\\nMy calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove,\\nAnd my best hopes are center d in thy love.\\nDeprived of this, can life one joy afford\\nIts utmost boast a vain, unmeaning word.\\nBut ah how oft my lawless passions rove,\\nAnd break those awful precepts I approve\\nPursue the fatal impulse I abhor,\\nAnd violate the virtue I adore\\nOft, when thy better Spirits guardian care\\nWarn d my fond soul to shun the tempting snare\\nMy stubborn will his gentle aid repress d,\\nAnd check d the rising goodness in my breast\\nMad with vain hopes, or urged by false desires,\\nStill d his soft voice, and quench d his sacred fire\\nWith grief oppress d, and prostrate in the dust,\\n;shouldst thou condemn, I own thy sentence just.\\nBut, oh! thy softer titles let me .claim,\\nAnd plead my cause by Mercy s gentle name.\\nMercy that wipes the penitential tear,\\nAnd dissipates the horrors of despair 5\\nFrom righteous justice steals the vengeful hour,\\nSoftens the dreadful attribute of power,\\nDisarms the wrath of an offended God,\\nAnd seals my pardon in a Savior s blood", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0298.jp2"}, "299": {"fulltext": "BEAUTIES OF POETRY. \u00c2\u00aeg\\nAll-powerful Grace, exert gentle sway,\\nAnd teach my rebel passions to obey\\nLest lurking Folly, with insidious art,\\nRegain my volatile, inconstant heart\\nShall every high resolve Devotion frames\\nBe only lifeless sounds and specious names\\nO, rather, while thy hopes and fears control,\\nIn this still hour, each motion of my soul,\\nSecure its safety by a sudden doom,\\nAnd be the soft retreat of sleep my tomb I\\nCalm let me slumber in that dark repose,\\nTill the last morn its orient beam disclose\\nTheji, when the great arch -angel s potent sound\\nrfhall echo through creation s ample round,\\nWaked from the sleep of death, with joy survey\\nThe opening splendors of eternal day\\nINSCRIPTION\\nIn a Hermitage, at Ansley-Hall, in Warwickshire.\\nBY T. WARTON.\\nBENEATH this stony roof reclined,\\nI soothe to peace my pensive mind\\nAnd, while to shade my lowly cave,\\nEmbowering elms their umbrage wave\\nAnd while the maple dish is mine,\\nThe beechen cup unstain d with wine\\nI scorn the gay licentious crowd,\\nN T or heed the toys that deck the proud.", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0299.jp2"}, "300": {"fulltext": "3Q0 BEAUTIES OF POETRY\\nWithin my limits lone and still,\\nThe blackbird pipe? in artless trill 5\\nFast by my conch, congenial guest,\\nThe wren has wove her mossy nest 5\\nFrom busy scenes and brighter skies.\\nTo lurk with innocence she flies\\nHere hopes in safe repose to dwell,\\nNor aught suspects the sylvan cell.\\nAt morn I take my custom d round,\\nTo mark how buds yon shrubby mount!\\nAnd every opening primrose count\\nThat trimly paints my blooming mount\\nOr o er the sculptures, quaint and rude.\\nThat grace my gloomy solitude,\\nteacli in winding wreaths to stray\\nFantastic ivy s gadding spray.\\nAt eve, within yon studious nook,\\nope my brass-embossed book,\\nPortray d with many a holy deed\\nOf martyrs, erown d with heavenly meed\\nThen, as my taper waxes dim,\\nChant, ere I sleep, my measured hymn\\nAnd, at the close, the gleams behold\\nOf parting wings bedropp d with gold.\\nWhile such pure joys my bliss create,\\nWho but would smile at guilty state\\nWho but would wish his holy lot\\nIn calm oblivion s humble grot A \u00c2\u00abj\\nWho but would cast his pomp away,\\nTo take my staff and amice gray\\nAnd to the world s tumultuous sta^\\nPrefer the blameless hermitage r", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0300.jp2"}, "301": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0301.jp2"}, "302": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0302.jp2"}, "303": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0303.jp2"}, "304": {"fulltext": "^A V*\\nV\\nv* N\\nxO^", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0304.jp2"}, "305": {"fulltext": "", "height": "3070", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0305.jp2"}, "306": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\n111 111 Hi\\n013 979 809\\nHflti\\niBitrara B\\nn\\nmi\\n;\\\\:;J.", "height": "3207", "width": "1785", "jp2-path": "beautiesofpoetry00alba_0306.jp2"}}