The Miscellaneous Works, in Prose and Verse, of Mrs. Elizabeth Rowe, Nide 1

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Henry Lintot, 1756
 

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Sivu 72 - There, in a melting, solemn, dying strain, Let me all day upon my lyre complain, And wind up all its soft harmonious strings, To noble, serious, melancholy things.
Sivu lxvii - Now be my harp for ever dumb, My muse attempt no more. 'Twas long ago I bid adieu to mortal things, To Grecian tales, and wars of Rome, 'Twas long ago I broke all but the...
Sivu 113 - Or why has heaven diflblv'd the tie fo foon ? Why was the charming youth fo form'd to move ? Or why was all my foul fo turn'd for love ? But virtue here a vain defence had made, Where fo much worth and eloquence could plead. For he could talk— 'twas...
Sivu 13 - All day to the repeating caves complain, In mournful accents, and a dying strain. Dear lovely youth, I cry to all around : Dear lovely youth, the flattering vales resound.
Sivu xxx - ... concluding act of life : that name which I have made my glory and my boast, shall then be my strength and my salvation. To meet death with a becoming fortitude, is a part above the powers of nature, and which I can perform by no power or...
Sivu 14 - And make thy beauty, like thy verse, endure; May ev'ry God his friendly aid afford; Pan guard thy flock, and Ceres bless thy board. But, if by chance the series of thy joys Permit one thought less...
Sivu xxvi - ... if I depended on those works, which my own vanity or the partiality of men have called good, and which, if examined by divine purity, would prove, perhaps, but specious sins ! The best actions of my life would be found defective, if brought to the test of that unblemished holiness in whose sight the heavens are not clean.
Sivu 112 - Practis'd by him, each virtue grew more bright, And shone with more than its own native light. Whatever noble warmth could recommend The just, the active, and the constant friend, Was all his own But Oh! a dearer name, And softer ties my endless sorrow claim.
Sivu 71 - Where no enlivening beams nor cheerful echoes come; But silent all, and dusky let it be, Remote, and unfrequented but by me; Mysterious, close, and sullen as that grief Which leads me to its covert for relief. Far from the busy world's detested noise, Its wretched pleasures, and distracted joys Far from the jolly fools, who laugh and play, And dance, and sing, impertinently gay, Their short, inestimable hours away; Far from the studious follies of the great, The tiresome farce of ceremonious state....
Sivu 12 - And clofmg flowers reviving odours yield ; Let us, beneath thefe fpreading trees, recite What from our hearts our mufes may indite. Nor need we, in this clofe retirement, fear Left any fwain our am'rous fecrets hear.

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