The Poems of William Collins

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Frowde, 1907 - 90 頁
 

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第 52 頁 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
第 40 頁 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unseen their dirge is sung; There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there!
第 52 頁 - Winter yelling through the troublous air, Affrights thy shrinking train, And rudely rends thy robes : So long, regardful of thy quiet rule, Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace, Thy gentlest influence own, And love thy favourite name ! ODE TO PEACE.
第 51 頁 - Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum: Now teach me, maid composed, To breathe some softened strain, Whose numbers, stealing through thy darkening vale, May not unseemly with its stillness suit...
第 51 頁 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...
第 70 頁 - 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, The rifted mounds their yawning cells unfold, And forth the monarchs stalk with sovereign power, In pageant robes, and wreathed with sheeny gold, And on their twilight tombs aerial council hold.
第 65 頁 - To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love.
第 63 頁 - Then maids and youths shall linger here, And while its sounds at distance swell, Shall sadly seem in pity's ear To hear the woodland pilgrim's knell.
第 58 頁 - Poured through the mellow horn her pensive soul : And, dashing soft from rocks around, Bubbling runnels joined the sound ; Through glades and glooms the mingled measure stole, Or, o'er some haunted stream, with fond delay, Round an holy calm diffusing, Love of peace, and lonely musing In hollow murmurs died away.
第 58 頁 - And ever and anon, he beat The doubling drum with furious heat, And though, sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity, at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied; Yet still he kept his wild, unaltered mien, While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head.

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