Memoir and Poetical Remains of Henry Kirke White: Also Melancholy Hours

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Perkins & Purves, 1844 - 470 pages
 

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Page 24 - Unhappy White ! while life was in its spring,* And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing, The spoiler came ; and all thy promise fair Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there. Oh ! what a noble heart was here undone, When Science...
Page 89 - What is this passing scene ? A peevish April day ! A little sun — a little rain, And then night sweeps along the plain, And all things fade away Man (soon discuss'd) Yields up his trust, And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust.
Page 95 - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. 'But not the praise...
Page 90 - 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 33 - Rebel, ye waves ! and o'er the land With threatening aspect roar; The Lord uplifts his awful hand, And chains you to the shore. 3 Howl, winds of night! your force combine; Without his high behest Ye shall not in the mountain pine Disturb the sparrow's nest.
Page 163 - ... cheers the lands, And thou dost bear within thine awful hands The rolling thunders and the lightnings fleet. Stern on thy dark-wrought car of cloud, and wind, Thou guid'st the northern storm at night's dead noon, Or on the red wing of the fierce Monsoon, : / Disturb'st the sleeping giant of the Ind. In the drear silence of the polar span Dost thou repose ? or in the solitude Of sultry tracts, where the lone caravan Hears nightly howl the tiger's hungry brood ? Vain thought ! the confines of his...
Page 331 - O'er Beauty's fall; Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her pall. The most beloved on earth Not long survives to-day; So music past is obsolete, And yet 'twas sweet, 'twas passing sweet, But now 'tis gone away. Thus does the shade In memory fade, When in forsaken tomb the form beloved is laid.
Page 431 - YE, who with warmth the public triumph feel Of talents dignified by sacred zeal, Here, to devotion's bard devoutly just, Pay your fond tribute due to Cowper's dust ! England, exulting in his spotless fame, Ranks with her dearest sons his favourite name.
Page 235 - And pendent ruffles, of the whitest lawn, Of ancient make, her elbows did adorn. Faint with old age and dim were grown her eyes, A pair of spectacles their want supplies • These does she guard secure in leathern case, From thoughtless wights, in some unweeted place. Here first I enter'd, though with toil and pain, The low vestibule of learning's fane : Enter'd with pain, yet soon I found the way, Though sometimes toilsome, many a sweet display.
Page 331 - Come, Disappointment, come! Thou art not stern to me ; Sad Monitress ! I own thy sway, A votary sad in early day, I bend my knee to thee. From sun to sun My race will run, I only bow, and say, My God, thy will be done.

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