VII. At a Village in Scotland…. (William Lisle Bowles Poem)
O NORTH! as thy romantic vales I leave, And bid farewell to each retiring hill, Where thoughtful fancy seems to ...
O NORTH! as thy romantic vales I leave, And bid farewell to each retiring hill, Where thoughtful fancy seems to ...
YE holy tow'rs, that crown the azure deep, Still may ye shade the wave-worn rock sublime, Though, hurrying silent by, ...
How sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal! As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze Breathes on the trembling sense ...
O TWEED! a stranger, that with wand'ring feet O'er hill and dale has journey'd many a mile, (If so his ...
O Time! who know'st a lenient hand to lay Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence (Lulling to sad repose ...
O TIME! who know'st a lenient hand to lay Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence (Lulling to sad repose ...
O POVERTY! though from thy haggard eye, Thy cheerless mein, of every charm bereft, Thy brow, that hope's last traces ...
Languid, and sad, and slow, from day to day I journey on, yet pensive turn to view (Where the rich ...
O stay, harmonious and sweet sounds, that die In the long vaultings of this ancient fane! Stay, for I may ...
On these white cliffs, that calm above the flood Uplift their shadowing heads, and, at their feet, Scarce hear the ...
HOW sweet the tuneful bells' responsive peal! As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze Breathes on the trembling sense ...
Beautiful landscape! I could look on thee For hours,--unmindful of the storm and strife, And mingled murmurs of tumultuous life. ...
O, Poverty! though from thy haggard eye, Thy cheerless mien, of every charm bereft, Thy brow that Hope's last traces ...
And art thou he, now "fallen on evil days," And changed indeed! Yet what do this sunk cheek, These thinner ...
Go, then, and join the murmuring city's throng! Me thou dost leave to solitude and tears; To busy phantasies, and ...
Milton, our noblest poet, in the grace Of youth, in those fair eyes and clustering hair, That brow untouched by ...
Whose was that gentle voice, that, whispering sweet, Promised methought long days of bliss sincere! Soothing it stole on my ...
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