The Remains of Henry Kirke White of Nottingham with an Account of His Life, Volume 1Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1816 - 877 pages |
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Page 17
... round of miserable follies , it is pro- bable that she never opened the book , otherwise her heart was good enough to have felt a pleasure in encouraging the author . Oh , what a lesson would the history of that heart hold out ? Henry ...
... round of miserable follies , it is pro- bable that she never opened the book , otherwise her heart was good enough to have felt a pleasure in encouraging the author . Oh , what a lesson would the history of that heart hold out ? Henry ...
Page 19
... round my brow ; And as I twine the mournful wreath , I'll weave a melancholy song : And sweet the strain shall be and long , The melody of death . 2 . Come , funeral flow'r ! who lov'st to dwell With the pale corse in lonely tomb , And ...
... round my brow ; And as I twine the mournful wreath , I'll weave a melancholy song : And sweet the strain shall be and long , The melody of death . 2 . Come , funeral flow'r ! who lov'st to dwell With the pale corse in lonely tomb , And ...
Page 21
... round my rural casement twine : The fresh gale o'er the green lawn breathes ; It fans my feverish brow , it calms the mental strife , - And cheerily re - illumes the lambent flame of life . The lark has her gay song begun , She leaves ...
... round my rural casement twine : The fresh gale o'er the green lawn breathes ; It fans my feverish brow , it calms the mental strife , - And cheerily re - illumes the lambent flame of life . The lark has her gay song begun , She leaves ...
Page 35
... round my brow resign'd , thy peaceful cypress twine . 2 . Though Fancy flies away Before thy hollow tread , Yet Meditation , in her cell , Hears with faint eye , the ling'ring knell , That tells her hopes are dead ; And though the tear ...
... round my brow resign'd , thy peaceful cypress twine . 2 . Though Fancy flies away Before thy hollow tread , Yet Meditation , in her cell , Hears with faint eye , the ling'ring knell , That tells her hopes are dead ; And though the tear ...
Page 40
... round , And slowly spell the rudely sculptur'd rhymes , And , in his rustic manner , moralize . I've mark'd with what a silent awe he'd spoken , With head uncover'd , his respectful manner , And all the honours which he paid the grave ...
... round , And slowly spell the rudely sculptur'd rhymes , And , in his rustic manner , moralize . I've mark'd with what a silent awe he'd spoken , With head uncover'd , his respectful manner , And all the honours which he paid the grave ...
Other editions - View all
The Remains of Henry Kirke White of Nottingham With an Account of His Life No preview available - 2020 |
The Remains of Henry Kirke White ...: With an Account of His Life;, Volume 2 Henry Kirke White No preview available - 2019 |
The Remains Of Henry Kirke White ...: With An Account Of His Life;, Volume 2 Henry Kirke White No preview available - 2019 |
Common terms and phrases
affection affectionate amuse blessed BROTHER NEVILLE Cambridge Capel Lofft Catton cerns cheerful Christian church Clifton Grove comfort Countess of Derby DEAR MOTHER DEAR NEVILLE DEAR SIR death delight Duchess of Devonshire duty expected fear feel fond genius give grace Grainger Greek H. K. WHITE habits hand happy hear heart HENRY KIRKE WHITE Holy honour hope hour Jesus Christ JOHN CHARLESWORTH John's labour learned leave leisure letter live lyre MADDOCK means ment mind morning muse never night Nottingham o'er obliged pleasure pleonasm poems poet pray prayer present reason received regard relaxation religion religious sigh Simeon sincerely Sizar sleep soon sorrow soul spirit sure sweet tear tell thee thine thing thou thought tion trust truth tutor verses virtues volume Winteringham wish write written young youth
Popular passages
Page 75 - Tired of earth And this diurnal scene, she springs aloft Through fields of air, pursues the flying storm, Rides on the vollied lightning through the heavens ; Or, yoked with whirlwinds, and the northern blast, Sweeps the long tract of day.
Page 178 - we know on whom we have believed ; and we are persuaded, that he is able to keep that which we have committed unto him against the great day.
Page 310 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low : So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart ; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel ; While the same plumage that had warmed his nest Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Page 275 - O put thy trust in God : for I will yet thank him, which is the help of my countenance, and my God.
Page 37 - Then since this world is vain, And volatile, and fleet, Why should I lay up earthly joys, Where rust corrupts, and moth destroys, And cares and sorrows eat ? Why fly from ill With anxious skill, When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still.
Page 310 - So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart ; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel ; While the same plumage that had warmed his nest Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Page 323 - In yonder cot, along whose mouldering walls In many a fold the mantling woodbine falls, The village matron kept her little school, Gentle of heart, yet knowing well to rule; Staid was the dame, and modest was her mien; Her garb was coarse, yet whole, and nicely clean; Her neatly...
Page 36 - Still, rigid Nurse, thou art forgiven, For thou severe wert sent from heaven To wean me from the world; To turn my eye From vanity, And point to scenes of bliss that never, never die.
Page 350 - WHEN the winter wind whistles along the wild moor, And the cottager shuts on the beggar his door ; When the chilling tear stands in my comfortless eye, Oh, how hard is the lot of the Wandering Boy.
Page 374 - I have hail'd the gray morn high, On the blue mountain's misty brow, And tried to tune my little reed To hymns of harmony. But never could I tune my reed, At morn, or noon, or eve, so sweet, As when upon the ocean shore I hail'd thy star-beam mild.