Essays on Song-writing: With a Collection of Such English Songs as are Most Eminent for Poetical MeritR.H. Evans, 1810 - 352 pages |
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Page xviii
... Oh how vain is every blessing Oh turn away those cruel eyes On a bank beside a willow On Belvidera's bosom lying 134 311 351 - 214 138 18 One morning very early , one morning in the spring xviii A TABLE OF FIRST LINES .
... Oh how vain is every blessing Oh turn away those cruel eyes On a bank beside a willow On Belvidera's bosom lying 134 311 351 - 214 138 18 One morning very early , one morning in the spring xviii A TABLE OF FIRST LINES .
Page xxi
... bosom ! ah , what can it mean Why heaves Why we love and why we hate 127 154 321 A 199 Why will Florella , while I gaze 243 Why will you my passion reprove 87 Wine , wine in the morning 240 With amorous wiles and perjur'd eyes 288 With ...
... bosom ! ah , what can it mean Why heaves Why we love and why we hate 127 154 321 A 199 Why will Florella , while I gaze 243 Why will you my passion reprove 87 Wine , wine in the morning 240 With amorous wiles and perjur'd eyes 288 With ...
Page xxvi
... bosom struck , Daughters of Jove , receive the child , The queen of beauty said , and smil'd ; Her rosy breath perfum'd the air , And scatter'd sweet contagion there ; Relenting nature learn'd to languish ; And sicken'd with delightful ...
... bosom struck , Daughters of Jove , receive the child , The queen of beauty said , and smil'd ; Her rosy breath perfum'd the air , And scatter'd sweet contagion there ; Relenting nature learn'd to languish ; And sicken'd with delightful ...
Page 51
... Lucy dead , And all the village wept . Compassion , shame , remorse , despair , At once his bosom swell : The damps of death bedew'd his brows , He shook , he groan'd , he fell . From the vain bride , a bride no more , PASTORAL SONGS . 51.
... Lucy dead , And all the village wept . Compassion , shame , remorse , despair , At once his bosom swell : The damps of death bedew'd his brows , He shook , he groan'd , he fell . From the vain bride , a bride no more , PASTORAL SONGS . 51.
Page 74
... bosom lodg'd a wish , Which virtue keeps conceal'd . What happy hours of heartfelt bliss , Did love on both bestow ! But bliss too mighty long to last , Where fortune proves a foe . His sister , who like envy form'd , Like her in ...
... bosom lodg'd a wish , Which virtue keeps conceal'd . What happy hours of heartfelt bliss , Did love on both bestow ! But bliss too mighty long to last , Where fortune proves a foe . His sister , who like envy form'd , Like her in ...
Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Essays on Song-writing: With a Collection of Such English Songs as are Most ... John Aikin Affichage du livre entier - 1774 |
Essays on Song-writing: With a Collection of Such English Songs as are Most ... John Aikin Affichage du livre entier - 1774 |
Essays on Song-writing: With a Collection of Such English Songs as are Most ... John Aikin,Robert Harding Evans Affichage du livre entier - 1810 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
amorous Amynta Anacreon Ballad beauty beauty's blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright Catullus Celia charms cheek Chloe cried cruel Cupid Damon dart dear delight despair dost e'er epigram ev'ry eyes face fair faithless fancy fate fear flame fond gentle give grace grove heart heaven hope kind kiss know my love lady languish lily lips live Lochinvar lov'd lover lyre Lyric Lyric poetry maid mind move Muses nature ne'er Netherby never nightingale numbers nymph o'er pain passion pastoral poetry Phoebe Phyllis pieces pity plain pleasure poetical poetry prove R. B. SHERIDAN rose Sappho scorn shade shepherd sigh sing smile SOAME JENYNS soft song sorrow soul sounds swain sweet taste tears tell tender thee thine thou thought thro Tibullus trembling true Twas vex'd vows warbling weep winds young youth
Fréquemment cités
Page 260 - Sigh, no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot in sea, and one on shore ; To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, But let them go, And be you blithe and bonny ; Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Page 48 - Till quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride ; And sought a solitude forlorn, In secret, where he died. " But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay ; I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch me where he lay. " And there forlorn, despairing, hid, I'll lay me down and die ; 'Tvvas so for me that Edwin did, And so for him will I.
Page 43 - No flocks that range the valley free, To slaughter I condemn: Taught by that Power that pities me, I learn to pity them : "But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring. "Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ; All earth-born cares are wrong; Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.
Page 302 - And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
Page 337 - Oh ! young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. So faithful in love and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.
Page 338 - Then spoke the bride's father, his hand on his sword (For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word), "O, come ye in peace here, or come ye in war Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?
Page 282 - When she is by, I leave my work, I love her so sincerely; My master comes like any Turk, And bangs me most severely: But let him bang his bellyful, I'll bear it all for Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And she lives in our alley.
Page 304 - Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, Soon break, soon wither — soon forgotten, In folly ripe, in reason rotten. Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds, Thy coral clasps and amber studs, — All these in me no means can move To come to thee and be thy Love.
Page 263 - Drink to me only with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 281 - And it seem'd to a fanciful view To weep for the buds it had left, with regret, On the flourishing bush where it grew. I hastily seized it, unfit as it was For a nosegay, so dripping and drown'd, And swinging it rudely, too rudely, alas! I snapp'd it, it fell to the ground. And such...