Bell's Classical Arrangement of Fugitive Poetry: Vol. XIV.

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John Bell, 1791 - 143 pages

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Page 62 - There must thou wake perforce thy Doric quill ; 'Tis Fancy's land to which thou sett'st thy feet ; Where still, 'tis said, the fairy people meet, 20 Beneath each birken shade, on mead or hill.
Page 66 - West, The mighty kings of three fair realms are laid : Once foes, perhaps, together now they rest; No slaves revere them, and no wars invade: Yet frequent now, at midnight's solemn hour...
Page 136 - ... continuance of poverty, and long habits of dissipation, it cannot be expected that any character should be exactly uniform. There is a degree of want by which the freedom of agency is almost destroyed ; and long association with fortuitous companions will at last relax the strictness of truth, and abate the fervour of sincerity. That this man, wise and virtuous as he was, passed...
Page 135 - He had employed his mind chiefly upon works of fiction, and subjects of fancy; and, by indulging some peculiar habits of thought, was eminently delighted with those flights of imagination which pass the bounds of nature, and to which the mind is reconciled only by a passive acquiescence in popular traditions.
Page 65 - O'er its drown'd banks, forbidding all return ! Or, if he meditate his wish'd escape, To some dim hill, that seems uprising near, To his faint eye, the grim and grisly shape, In all its terrors clad, shall wild appear.
Page 66 - Pursue, dear wife, thy daily toils pursue, At dawn or dusk, industrious as before ; Nor e'er of me one helpless thought renew, While I lie weltering on the osiered shore, Drown'd by the kelpie's wrath, nor e'er shall aid thee more !
Page 65 - His glimmering mazes cheer th' excursive sight, Yet turn, ye wanderers, turn your steps aside, Nor trust the guidance of that faithless light : For watchful, lurking 'mid th' unrustling reed, At those mirk hours the wily monster lies, And listens oft to hear the passing steed, And frequent round him rolls his sullen eyes, If chance his savage wrath may some weak wretch surprise.
Page 136 - This idea which he had formed of excellence, led him to oriental fictions and allegorical imagery; and, perhaps, while he was intent upon description, he did not sufficiently cultivate sentiment.
Page 67 - On whose bleak rocks, which brave the wasting tides, Fair Nature's daughter, Virtue, yet abides. Go! just as they, their blameless manners trace! Then to my ear transmit some gentle song, Of those whose lives are yet sincere and plain, Their bounded walks the rugged cliffs along, And all their prospect but the wintry main. With sparing temperance, at the needful time, They drain the scented spring; or, hunger-prest, Along the Atlantic rock, undreading climb, And of its eggs despoil the solan's nest.
Page 138 - Islington, where he was waiting for his sister, whom he had directed to meet him ; there was then nothing of disorder discernible in his mind by any but himself; but he had •withdrawn from study, and travelled with no other book than an English Testament, such as children carry to the school; when his friend took it into his hand, out of curiosity to see what companion a man of letters had chosen, ' I have but one book,' said Collins,

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