The Pleasures of Hope: With Other Poemsauthor, 1803 - 131 стор. |
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Сторінка 6
... pensive soul : His native hills that rise in happier climes , The grot that heard his song of other times , His cottage - home , his bark of slender sail , His glassy lake , and broomwood blossom'd vale , Rush on his thought ; he sweeps ...
... pensive soul : His native hills that rise in happier climes , The grot that heard his song of other times , His cottage - home , his bark of slender sail , His glassy lake , and broomwood blossom'd vale , Rush on his thought ; he sweeps ...
Сторінка 14
... pensive drops the radiant eye beguile- For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile ; → On Nature's throbbing anguish pour relief , And teach impassion'd souls the Joy of Grief ? " Yes ; to thy tongue shall seraph words be giv'n ...
... pensive drops the radiant eye beguile- For Beauty's tears are lovelier than her smile ; → On Nature's throbbing anguish pour relief , And teach impassion'd souls the Joy of Grief ? " Yes ; to thy tongue shall seraph words be giv'n ...
Сторінка 17
... pensive eyes , And weaves a song of melancholy joy— 66 Sleep , image of thy father , sleep , my boy : No ling'ring hour of sorrow shall be thine ; No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine ; Bright as his manly sire , the son shall ...
... pensive eyes , And weaves a song of melancholy joy— 66 Sleep , image of thy father , sleep , my boy : No ling'ring hour of sorrow shall be thine ; No sigh that rends thy father's heart and mine ; Bright as his manly sire , the son shall ...
Сторінка 19
... pensive , sits to hear The mournful ballad warbled in his ear ; How fondly looks admiring Hope the while , At every artless tear , and every smile ! How glows the joyous parent to descry A guileless bosom , true to sympathy ! Where is ...
... pensive , sits to hear The mournful ballad warbled in his ear ; How fondly looks admiring Hope the while , At every artless tear , and every smile ! How glows the joyous parent to descry A guileless bosom , true to sympathy ! Where is ...
Сторінка 49
... pensive eye Ask'd from his heart the homage of a sigh ? Who hath not own'd , with rapture - smitten frame , The power of grace , the magic of a name ? There be , perhaps , who barren hearts avow , Cold as the rocks on Torneo's hoary ...
... pensive eye Ask'd from his heart the homage of a sigh ? Who hath not own'd , with rapture - smitten frame , The power of grace , the magic of a name ? There be , perhaps , who barren hearts avow , Cold as the rocks on Torneo's hoary ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
adamantine afar Arion Avatar bark barren beauty Beauty's beneath bleeding bliss BOLT COURT bosom bower bright bright eye Briton charm charm'd child clime Culloden dark dead deep delight doom'd dread dream dust dust return earth Erin Erin-go-bragh eternal faggots Fancy fate fiery fire FLEET STREET flow'r friendless Genius hand Hark heart Heav'n Heav'n's command heav'nly hills Hindoo hour Indian isles life's light Lochiel lonely lov'd Loxian lyre mercy midnight mingles morn murmurs Muse Nature Nature's never night Note numbers o'er ocean pang Peace pensive pictur'd Plato PLEASURES OF HOPE pow'r proud rapture rocks sacred sapient seraph shade shore sigh sire slumber smile song soothe sorrow soul spirit star storm sublime sweep sweet sword tears thee thine thunder trembling triumph Truth vale wander watch wave weep wild wild wave winds wing WIZARD wretch yonder
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 108 - I have marshalled my clan, Their swords are a thousand, their bosoms are one! They are true to the last of their blood and their breath, And like reapers descend to the harvest of death.
Сторінка 109 - Lochiel, beware of the day ! For, dark and despairing, my sight I may seal, But man cannot cover what God would reveal : 'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.
Сторінка 100 - Sad is my fate! said the heart-broken stranger, The wild deer and wolf to a covert can flee; But I have no refuge from famine and danger, — A home and a country remain not to me. Never again, in the green sunny bowers, Where my forefathers lived , shall I spend the sweet hours, Or cover my harp with the wild-woven flowers, And strike to the numbers of Erin go bragh ! Erin, my country!
Сторінка 30 - Departed spirits of the mighty dead! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled! Friends of the world! restore your swords to man, Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van! Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, And make her arm puissant as your own! Oh! once again to Freedom's cause return The patriot TELL — the BRUCE OF BANNOCKBURN!
Сторінка 108 - Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel, the peerless in might, Whose banners arise on the battlements' height, Heaven's fire is around thee, to blast and to burn ! Return to thy dwelling, all lonely return ! For the blackness of ashes shall mark where it stood, And a wild mother scream o'er her famishing brood.
Сторінка 107 - Companionless bearing destruction abroad ; But down let him stoop from his havoc on high ! Ah, home let him speed, — for the spoiler is nigh ! Why flames the far summit? Why shoot to the blast Those embers, like stars from the firmament cast ? 'Tis the fire-shower of ruin, all dreadfully driven From his eyrie, that beacons the darkness of heaven. Oh, crested Lochiel, the peerless in might, Whose banners arise on the battlements...
Сторінка 93 - I flew to the pleasant fields traversed so oft In life's morning march, when my bosom was young ; I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, And knew the sweet strain that the corn-reapers sung.
Сторінка 114 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry ! Few, few, shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding sheet, And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Сторінка 72 - What is the bigot's torch, the tyrant's chain! I smile on death, if Heavenward HOPE remain! But, if the warring winds of Nature's strife Be all the faithless charter of my life, If Chance awaked, inexorable power...
Сторінка 29 - Heaven; ere Freedom found a grave, Why slept the sword omnipotent to save? Where was thine arm, O Vengeance!