The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe with his letters and journals, and his life, by his son. In eight volumes |
![]() | I. |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() | IX. |
![]() | X. |
![]() | II. |
![]() |
![]() |
I. |
II. |
![]() |
I. |
II. |
III. |
![]() |
I. |
II. |
![]() |
![]() | I. |
![]() | II. |
![]() | III. |
![]() | III, IV, V. |
![]() |
I. |
II. |
![]() | III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
XXIII. |
XXIV. |
![]() |
![]() |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
![]() |
![]() | VI, VII. |
![]() |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
VI. |
VII. |
VIII. |
IX. |
X. |
XI. |
XII. |
XIII. |
![]() | XIV. |
XV. |
XVI. |
XVII. |
XVIII. |
XIX. |
XX. |
XXI. |
XXII. |
![]() | VIII. |
![]() |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
V. |
![]() | VI. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | VII. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | VIII. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | IX. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | X. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XI. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XII. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XIII. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XIV. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XV. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XVI. |
I. |
II. |
III. |
IV. |
![]() | XVII. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XVIII. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XIX. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XX. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XXI. |
I. |
II. |
![]() | XXII. |
I. |
![]() | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe | ![]() |
Him loved the maiden Rachel, fondly loved,
As many a sigh and tear in absence proved,
And many a fear for dangers that she knew,
And many a doubt what one so gay might do:
Of guilt she thought not,—she had often heard
They bought and sold, and nothing wrong appear'd;
Her father's maxim this: she understood
There was some ill,—but he, she knew, was good:
It was a traffic—but was done by night—
If wrong, how trade? why secrecy, if right?
But Robert's conscience, she believed, was pure—
And that he read his Bible she was sure.
As many a sigh and tear in absence proved,
And many a fear for dangers that she knew,
And many a doubt what one so gay might do:
Of guilt she thought not,—she had often heard
They bought and sold, and nothing wrong appear'd;
258
There was some ill,—but he, she knew, was good:
It was a traffic—but was done by night—
If wrong, how trade? why secrecy, if right?
But Robert's conscience, she believed, was pure—
And that he read his Bible she was sure.
![]() | The Poetical Works of the Rev. George Crabbe | ![]() |