Knight's Quarterly Magazine, Том 3Knight., 1824 |
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admiration Æneid ancient Apennine appear Athenian beautiful Bowles called cause Cephalonia character Corcyra Corfu court critic Dante death Demosthenes English Eurypylus eyes favour feelings French genius gentleman Gerard give Greek hand happy Haselfoot heard heart Heaviside honour inhabitants Ionian Islands island Italian Italy king Lady Lisle lake lake of Garda lived look Lord Lord Byron lover Malta Maltese means ment mind Mirabeau Mitford Moonites moral Mule Mulvany Narenor nation native nature never night opinions party passage passed passion Pennine Alps person Pindemonte poem poet poetical poetry political Pope Pope's portmanteau possession present prince Provençal rendered round Santa Maura scarcely scene seems sentiment Shelley shew side speak spirit sweet Tarver taste thee thing thou thought tion Troubadours truth Tunis Valletta verse voice whole words writers young
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Сторінка 38 - Created hugest that swim the ocean stream : Him, haply, slumbering on the Norway foam, The pilot of some small night-foundered skiff Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell, With fixed anchor in his scaly rind Moors by his side under the lee, while night Invests the sea, and wished morn delays...
Сторінка 39 - As when to them who sail Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow Sabean odours from the spicy shore Of Araby the Blest ; with such delay Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league Cheered with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles...
Сторінка 192 - I see the Deep's untrampled floor With green and purple seaweeds strown ; I see the waves upon the shore, Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown : I sit upon the sands alone, — The lightning of the noontide ocean Is flashing round me, and a tone Arises from its measured motion, How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion. in Alas! I have nor hope nor health, Nor peace within nor calm around...
Сторінка 396 - So let him take no thought for the morrow: "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
Сторінка 189 - SWIFT as a spirit hastening to his task Of glory and of good, the sun sprang forth Rejoicing in his splendour, and the mask Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth. The smokeless altars of the mountain snows Flamed above crimson clouds, and at the birth Of light, the Ocean's orison arose, To which the birds tempered their matin lay.
Сторінка 192 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear, Till death like sleep might steal on me, And I might feel in the warm air My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.
Сторінка 191 - The breath of the moist earth is light, Around its unexpanded buds ; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds, the birds, the ocean floods, The City's voice itself is soft like Solitude's.
Сторінка 190 - SWIFTLY walk over the western wave, Spirit of Night ! Out of the misty eastern cave, Where all the long and lone daylight, Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear, Which make thee terrible and dear, — Swift be thy flight...
Сторінка 192 - Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure. Others I see whom these surround — Smiling they live, and call life pleasure ; — To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Сторінка 189 - But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem The cone of night...