The Poetical Works of William Falconer

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W. Pickering, 1836 - 236 pages
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Page 130 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge ; And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes ? Canst thou, O partial sleep!
Page 130 - That, with the hurly, death itself awakes? Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude. And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, • Deny it to a king? Then happy low, lie down ! 30 Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Page 237 - Bourne's (Vincent) Poetical Works, Latin and English, with Life of the Author, edited by the Rev. J. Mitford. Fcp. 8vo. 5s. Poems, by Sir Henry Wotton, Sir Walter Raleigh, and others; edited by the Rev. John Hannah, late Fellow of Lincoln College, Oxford, fcp.
Page 238 - A Short and Plain Instruction for the better Understanding of the Lord's Supper ; to which is annexed, the Office of the Holy Communion, with proper Helps and Directions. 'By Thomas Wilson, DD, late Lord Bishop of Sodor and Man.
Page 120 - Palemon rescued from the wreck ; Take it, and say, when panting in the wave, I struggled life and this alone to save ! — " My soul, that fluttering hastens to be free, Would yet a train of thoughts impart to thee...
Page 90 - While, dashed apart by her dividing prow, Like burning adamant the waters glow; Her joints forget their firm elastic tone, Her long keel trembles, and her timbers groan : Upheaved behind her in tremendous height The billows frown, with fearful radiance bright; Now quivering o'er the topmost wave she rides, While deep beneath th...
Page 32 - The' impatient wish that never feels repose, Desire that with perpetual current flows, The fluctuating pangs of hope and fear, Joy distant still, and sorrow ever near. Thus, while the pangs of thought severer grew, The western breezes inauspicious blew, Hastening the moment of our last adieu.
Page 115 - Alas ! these rocks all human skill defy; Who strikes them once, beyond relief must die : And now sore wounded, thou perhaps art tost On these, or in some oozy cavern lost...
Page 54 - Olympus' throne; For oft, alas ! their venal Strains adorn The Prince, whom blushing Virtue holds in scorn : Still ROME and GREECE record his endless fame, And hence yon mountain yet retains his name.
Page xxv - Little did my mother think, That day she cradled me, What land I was to travel in, Or what death I should die...

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