The Works of William Cowper: Comprising His Poems, Correspondence and Translations, Volume 2

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Contents

To the Rev W Unwin June 22 Robertson Summer idleness
261
To the Rev John Newton July 12 His own state of mind
268
To Joseph Hill Esq Aug 10 Greeting him at his castle of Buen
274
To the Rev William Unwin Sept 17 Schools
280
To the Rev William Unwin Nov 9 Proposes a payment for his verses
285
To the Rev William Unwin Dec With the same poem
291
To the Rev William Unwin Feb 6 Advice how to deal with
297
To Mrs Hill Feb 19 Difficulty of writing to a lady whom he
304
To the Rev John Newton March 18 Passage to which Mr New
310
To the Rev John Newton April 25 Contents of his volume Preface
318
To the Rev William Unwin May 23 Delays in printing Mischief
324
To the Rev William Unwin June 5 His motives for writing
330
To the Rev John Newton July 12 On rhyme
336
To the Rev John Newton Aug 21 Difference between his state
345
To the Rev John Newton Sept 9 Occiduus Opinions on
351
To Mr Johnson Bookseller Sept 16 In reply to some of his cri
353
To the Rev William Unwin Oct 6 Ways of the world
359
To the Rev William Unwin Nov 5 Reflections on the careless
366
To the Rev William Unwin Nov 24 Paul Whiteheads ghost
373
To Mrs Newton Sept 16 An Epistle in verse concerning a barrei
380
To Mr Johnson About Dec 17 Relating to the volume in the press
389
To the Rev John Newton Jan 13 Printers delay Difficulty
395
To Mr Johnson Jan 31 Importance of minute accuracy in printing
402
To the Rev John Newton March 6 Politics Oliver Cromwell
412
To Joseph Hill Esq March 14 Fish His book is published and
418
To the Rev William Unwin April 1 A good trumpeter Thurlow
422
To the same June 12 Self observation on becoming an author
428
Consolation Lady Austen Martin Madan
434
To Lady Austen Aug 12 Verses written while the flood sepa
440
To the Rev William Bull Nov 5 A cordial invitation
450
To the Rev W Unwin Nov 30 Distribution of almıs Teedon
456
120

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Page 148 - Could catch the sound no more: For then, by toil subdued, he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank. 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 148 - He loved them both, but both in vain ; Nor him beheld, nor her again. 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 148 - That pitiless perforce, They left their outcast mate behind, And scudded still before the wind. Some succour yet they could afford ; And, such as storms allow, The cask, the coop, the floated cord, Delay'd not to bestow.
Page 100 - The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently...
Page 9 - ... A man who has not been in Italy is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. The grand object of travelling is to see the shores of the Mediterranean. On those shores were the four great empires of the world ; the Assyrian, the Persian, the Grecian, and the Roman. All our religion, almost all our law, almost all our arts, almost all that sets us above savages, has come to us from the shores of the Mediterranean.
Page 187 - For what is our hope, or joy, or crown of rejoicing ? Are not even ye in the presence of our Lord Jesus Christ at his coming ? for ye are our glory and joy,
Page 99 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary!
Page 180 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village- Hampden, that, with dauntless breast, The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Page 267 - The meshes of that fine network, the brain, are composed of such mere spinners' threads in me, that when a long thought finds its way into them, it buzzes, and twangs, and bustles about at such a rate as seems to threaten the whole contexture.
Page 195 - We seldom sit an hour after dinner, but if the weather permits adjourn to the garden, where with Mrs. Unwin and her son I have generally the pleasure of religious conversation till tea-time. If it rains, or is too windy for walking, we either converse within doors, or sing some hymns of Martin's collection, and by the help of Mrs.

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