The Works of the British Poets, Selected and Chronologically Arranged...: With Biographical and Critical Notices, Том 3D. Appleton, 1852 |
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Сторінка 11
... tell of idle loves with ill - spent breath ; A reverent offering to the Grave I bring , And twine a garland for the brow of Death . KESWICK , 1814 . PROEM . THAT was a memorable day for Spain , When on Pamplona's towers , so basely won ...
... tell of idle loves with ill - spent breath ; A reverent offering to the Grave I bring , And twine a garland for the brow of Death . KESWICK , 1814 . PROEM . THAT was a memorable day for Spain , When on Pamplona's towers , so basely won ...
Сторінка 19
... tell . 42 . What one tribe held , another disbelieved , For all concerning this was dark , she said ; Uncertain all , and hard to be received . The dreadful race , from whom their fathers fled , Boasted that even the Country of the Dead ...
... tell . 42 . What one tribe held , another disbelieved , For all concerning this was dark , she said ; Uncertain all , and hard to be received . The dreadful race , from whom their fathers fled , Boasted that even the Country of the Dead ...
Сторінка 30
... tell out the passing hour , The sound appeared to give him some delight ; And when the evening shades began to lower , Then was he seen to watch the fading light As if his heart rejoiced at the return of night . 60 . The old man , to ...
... tell out the passing hour , The sound appeared to give him some delight ; And when the evening shades began to lower , Then was he seen to watch the fading light As if his heart rejoiced at the return of night . 60 . The old man , to ...
Сторінка 31
... tell me where to clip , for she had play'd In childhood under them , and ' twas her pride To keep them in their beauty . Plague , I say , On their new - fangled whimseys ! we shall have A modern shrubbery here stuck full of firs And ...
... tell me where to clip , for she had play'd In childhood under them , and ' twas her pride To keep them in their beauty . Plague , I say , On their new - fangled whimseys ! we shall have A modern shrubbery here stuck full of firs And ...
Сторінка 32
... tell us One of her stories . HARRY . Ay - dear Gradmamma ! A pretty story ! something dismal now ; A bloody murder . JANE . Or about a ghost . GRANDMOTHER . Nay , nay , I should but frighten ye . You know The other night , when I was ...
... tell us One of her stories . HARRY . Ay - dear Gradmamma ! A pretty story ! something dismal now ; A bloody murder . JANE . Or about a ghost . GRANDMOTHER . Nay , nay , I should but frighten ye . You know The other night , when I was ...
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ABBOT art thou beauty behold beneath bless blest blood bosom breast breath bright brow CHAMOIS cheek child clouds Culdee dark dead dear death deep delight dread dream dwell earth ev'n eyes face fair fear feel flowers FRANKFORT gaze Gebir Gondoline grave grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven holy hope hour Inchcape Rock Innisfail jotun knew land light live lonely look look'd lyre MAGDALENE maid MANFRED MASTER OF REVELS mind mortal Moscow mother mountains ne'er never night nymph o'er once pale Paraguay pass'd peace PRIEST round scene seem'd shade shine shore sigh sight silent sleep smile song sorrow soul sound Spain spirit star stood sweet Tamar tears tell tempest thee Theodric thine things thou art thought tomb Twas unto voice wave ween weep Westbury wild WILMOT wind wretched young youth
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Сторінка 591 - And saw, within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom, An angel, writing in a book of gold; Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold : And to the presence in the room he said, " What writest thou ?" The vision raised its head, And,
Сторінка 203 - Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud» But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud ! XCIII.
Сторінка 540 - to the tempest given ; The massy earth and sphered skies are riven : I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ; Whilst burning through the inmost veil of Heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. LINES WRITTEN AMONG THE EUGANEAN HILLS. OCTOBER,
Сторінка 141 - thousand years, The battle and the breeze Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe ! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy tempests blow; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow. The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave
Сторінка 583 - 3. Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Сторінка 552 - I sift the snow on the mountains below. And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white. While I sleep in the arms of the blast. Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers. Lightning my pilot sits. In a cavern under is
Сторінка 223 - thee— Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they? Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage ; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts :—not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play— Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow— Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou
Сторінка 539 - XLIII. He is a portion of the loveliness Which once he made more lovely: he doth bear His part, while the one Spirit's plastic stress Sweeps through the dull dense world, compelling there All new successions to the forms they wear ; Torturing th' unwilling dross that checks its flight To
Сторінка 539 - thou find Thine own well full, if thou returnest home, Of tears and gall. From the world's bitter wind Seek shelter in the shadow of the tomb. What Adonais is, why fear we to become? LH. The One remains, the many change and pass ; Heaven's light for ever shines, Earth's shadows
Сторінка 141 - sulph'rous 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 when many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet, And every turf beneath