William Somervile

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My hoarse-sounding horn
Invites thee to the chase, the sport of kings.

William Somervile, sometimes reported as Somerville (2 September 1675 – 19 July 1742) was an English poet.

Sourced[edit]

  • He taught them how to live and how to die.
    • In Memory of the Rev. Mr. Moore, line 21.
  • Fortune is like a widow won,
    And truckles to the bold alone.
    • The Fortune-Hunter, Canto II.
  • For the next inn he spurs amain,
    In haste alights, and skuds away,
    But time and tide for no man stay.
    • The Sweet-Scented Miser, line 98.
  • Prostrate on earth the bleeding warrior lies,
    And Isr'el's beauty on the mountains dies.
    How are the mighty fallen!
    Hush'd be my sorrow, gently fall my tears,
    Lest my sad tale should reach the alien's ears:
    Bid Fame be dumb, and tremble to proclaim
    In heathen Gath, or Ascalon, our shame
    Lest proud Philistia, lest our haughty foe,
    With impious scorn insult our solemn woe.
    • The Lamentation of David over Saul and Jonathan.

The Chace (1735)[edit]

  • My hoarse-sounding horn
    Invites thee to the chase, the sport of kings.
  • The bird
    That glads the night had cheer'd the listening groves with sweet complainings.
  • Hail, gentle Dawn! mild blushing goddess, hail!
    Rejoic'd I see thy purple mantle spread
    O'er half the skies, gems pave thy radiant way,
    And orient pearls from ev'ry shrub depend.
    • Bk. II, line 79.
  • Hail, blooming Youth!
    May all your virtues with your years improve,
    Till in consummate worth you shine the pride
    Of these our days, and succeeding times
    A bright example.
    • Book III, line 389.
  • Whate'er of earth is form'd, to earth returns,
    * * * * The soul
    Of man alone, that particle divine,
    Escapes the wreck of worlds, when all things fail.
    • Bk. IV. L. 1.

External links[edit]

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