Faringdon Hill. Book II (Henry James Pye Poems)
The sultry hours are past, and Phobus nowSpreads yellower rays along the mountain's brow:The broken clouds unnumber'd tints display,Drinking the ...
The sultry hours are past, and Phobus nowSpreads yellower rays along the mountain's brow:The broken clouds unnumber'd tints display,Drinking the ...
Where the pure Derwent's waters glide Along their mossy bed,Close by the river's verdant side, A castle rear'd its head.The antient pile ...
Blest by the song! (a bard, though humble, cries),That moves by Pity's power th' infuriate breast;Lures Mercy beaming from her ...
In the Manner of Sir Walter Raleigh.The Objector.Each man who lives, the Scriptures prove,Must as himself his neighbour love;But though ...
O Spirits made perfect! How dear will ye be,In the bright happy world, where affections are free!Unfetter'd from all the heart-slavery ...
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