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able Adieu admirable affection affectionate answer appeared attention brother cause character charm close concerning Cowper critic dear DEAREST delight described desire devote equal Esquire excellent expect expressed feel felt give given grace hand happy heart Homer honour hope idea interest Johnson kind labour Lady least lines live look manner March Mary mean melancholy Milton mind morning nature never notes obliged observe once opportunity passage perhaps person pleased pleasure poem poet poetical poetry poor Pope powers praise present produced prove readers reason receive remarkable Rose seems soon speaking spirit sufferings sure tell tender thank thing thou thought tion translation truly truth Unwin verse W. C. LETTER Weston whole WILLIAM HAYLEY wish write
Page 102 - Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign; Yet, gently press'd, press gently mine, My Mary!
Page 101 - Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more ; My Mary! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will, My Mary! But well thou play'dst the housewife's part, And all thy threads with magic art Have wound themselves about this heart, My Mary!
Page 117 - Not long beneath the whelming brine, Expert to swim, he lay; Nor soon he felt his strength decline, Or courage die away: But waged with death a lasting strife, Supported by despair of life.
Page 154 - He looks abroad into the varied field Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compared With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, Calls the delightful scenery all his own.
Page 204 - In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care.
Page 118 - d not to bestow. But he (they knew) nor ship nor shore, Whate'er they gave, should visit more. Nor, cruel as it seem'd, could he Their haste himself condemn, Aware that flight, in such a sea, Alone could rescue them ; Yet bitter felt it still to die Deserted, and his friends so nigh. He long survives, who lives an hour In ocean, self-upheld ; And so long he, with unspent power, His destiny repell'd ; And ever, as the minutes flew, Entreated help, or cried — "Adieu...
Page 118 - No poet wept him; but the page Of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age, Is wet with Anson's tear : And tears by bards or heroes shed Alike immortalize the dead. I therefore purpose not, or dream, Descanting on his fate, To give the melancholy theme A more enduring date : But misery still delights to trace Its semblance in another's case.
Page 103 - But ah! by constant heed I know How oft the sadness that I show Transforms thy smiles to looks of woe, My Mary! And should my future lot be cast With much resemblance of the past, Thy worn-out heart will break at last — My Mary!