Bell's Classical Arrangement of Fugitive Poetry, Volumes 11-12

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Page 101 - Thy spirit, Independence, let me share; Lord of the lion-heart, and eagle-eye! Thy steps I follow with my bosom bare, Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky!
Page 105 - So moves the sumpter-mule, in harness'd pride, That bears the treasure which he cannot taste. For him let venal bards disgrace the bay, And hireling minstrels wake the tinkling string; Her sensual snares let faithless pleasure lay; And...
Page 76 - Spring profusely throws From her green lap the pink and rose, When the soft turtle of the dale To Summer tells her tender tale, When Autumn cooling caverns seeks, And stains with wine his jolly cheeks; When Winter, like poor pilgrim old, Shakes his silver beard with cold; At every season let my ear Thy solemn whispers, Fancy, hear.
Page 73 - Tell me the path, sweet wand'rer tell, To thy unknown, sequester'd cell, Where woodbines cluster round the door, Where shells and moss o'erlay the floor, And on whose top a hawthorn blows, Amid whose thickly woven boughs Some nightingale still builds her nest, Each ev'ning warbling thee to rest...
Page 31 - Rough is the road to fame, thro' blood and war; " Smooth is my way, and all my paths are peace. " With me retire, from toils and perils free ;
Page 74 - Peace resort, And Venus keeps her festive court, Where Mirth and Youth each evening meet, And lightly trip with nimble feet, Nodding their lily-crowned heads ; Where Laughter roselip'd Hebe leads ; Where Echo walks steep hills among, List'ning to the shepherd's song.
Page 101 - Nor heed the storm that howls along the sky. Deep in the frozen regions of the north, A goddess violated brought thee forth, Immortal Liberty, whose look sublime Hath bleach'd the tyrant's cheek in every varying clime.
Page 75 - Tis Fancy, in her fiery car, Transports me to the thickest war, There whirls me o'er the hills of slain, Where Tumult and Destruction reign ; Where, mad with pain, the wounded steed Tramples the dying and the dead : Where giant Terror stalks around, With sullen joy surveys the ground, And, pointing to th...
Page 143 - Through this still valley let me stray, Rapt in some strain of pensive GRAY: Whose lofty genius bears along The conscious dignity of Song; And, scorning from the sacred store To waste a note on Pride or Power, Roves...
Page 105 - And sleep unbribed his dews refreshing shed ; White-mantled Innocence, ethereal sprite, Shall chase far off the goblins of the night ; And Independence o'er the day preside, Propitious power ! my patron and my pride.

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