The British Female PoetsLindsay & Blakiston, 1848 - 490 стор. The poetry of over fifty British women is presented here, along with short biographies of each poet. |
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Сторінка 22
... bear , " or " hath borne . " - Percy . In Hart's edition of " Royal and Noble Authors , 22 QUEEN ELIZABETH . Translation by the Editor ANNE HOWARD, VISCOUNTESS IRWIN QUEEN ELIZABETH Biographical Sketch Biographical Sketch FRANCES THYNNE ...
... bear , " or " hath borne . " - Percy . In Hart's edition of " Royal and Noble Authors , 22 QUEEN ELIZABETH . Translation by the Editor ANNE HOWARD, VISCOUNTESS IRWIN QUEEN ELIZABETH Biographical Sketch Biographical Sketch FRANCES THYNNE ...
Сторінка 27
... bear an injury in mind ; To scorn a free - born heart slave - like to bind . But if for wrongs we needs revenge must have , Then be our vengeance of the noblest kind ; Do we his body from our fury save , And let our hate prevail against ...
... bear an injury in mind ; To scorn a free - born heart slave - like to bind . But if for wrongs we needs revenge must have , Then be our vengeance of the noblest kind ; Do we his body from our fury save , And let our hate prevail against ...
Сторінка 28
... they come , And there is so much room In the unexhausted and unfathomed womb ; That like the Holland Countess thou might'st bear A child for every day of all the fertile year ; " Flatman , who , speaking of her early death , ( 28 )
... they come , And there is so much room In the unexhausted and unfathomed womb ; That like the Holland Countess thou might'st bear A child for every day of all the fertile year ; " Flatman , who , speaking of her early death , ( 28 )
Сторінка 42
... harm , That helps to bear us down ; Which faded smiles no more can charm , But every tear's a winter storm , And every look's a frown . MRS . ELIZABETH ROWE WAS the daughter of Mr. Walter 42 ANNE , COUNTESS OF WINCHELSEA .
... harm , That helps to bear us down ; Which faded smiles no more can charm , But every tear's a winter storm , And every look's a frown . MRS . ELIZABETH ROWE WAS the daughter of Mr. Walter 42 ANNE , COUNTESS OF WINCHELSEA .
Сторінка 58
... bears : Thy sacred seeds in vain in youth we lay , By the fierce storm of passion torn away . Should some remain in a rich generous soil , They long lie hid , and must be rais'd with toil ; Faintly they struggle with inclement skies ...
... bears : Thy sacred seeds in vain in youth we lay , By the fierce storm of passion torn away . Should some remain in a rich generous soil , They long lie hid , and must be rais'd with toil ; Faintly they struggle with inclement skies ...
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Andrew Kippis art thou auld Robin Gray beams beauty beneath Bingen blest bloom bower breast breath bright brow Caldon Low calm charms cheek cheer child dark dear death deep delight Della Cruscan doth dream dwell e'en earth ev'ry eyes fair fame father fear flowers fond friends gaze gentle gloom glory glow green grief hand happy hath hear heart heaven hope hour HYMN JOANNA BAILLIE light lips lonely look lyre mother mournful ne'er never night nymph o'er pain pale passion Patrick Cockburn poems praise rapture rose round scenes shade shed shine sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit spring stars storms of passion stranger's heart stream sunset tree SUSANNA BLAMIRE sweet tears tender thine thou art Thou hast thought thro voice wake wandering wave weary ween weep wild wind wings young youth
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Сторінка 229 - THE boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled ; The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm ; A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though child-like form.
Сторінка 237 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set - but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death!
Сторінка 344 - Then take me on your knee, mother ; And listen, mother of mine. A hundred fairies danced last night, And the harpers they were nine. " And their harp-strings rung so merrily To their dancing feet so small ; But oh ! the words of their talking Were merrier far than all.
Сторінка 128 - Triumphant from the tomb ! , 3 This day be grateful homage paid, And loud hosannas sung ; Let gladness dwell in every heart, And praise on every tongue. 4 Ten thousand differing lips shall join To hail this welcome morn, Which scatters blessings from its wings To nations yet unborn.
Сторінка 482 - And wrought within his shattered brain such quick poetic senses As hills have language for, and stars, harmonious influences ; The pulse of dew upon the grass kept his within its number, And silent shadows from the trees refreshed him like a slumber.
Сторінка 483 - Deserted ! who hath dreamt that when the cross in darkness rested, Upon the victim's hidden face no love was manifested ! What frantic hands outstretched have e'er the atoning drops averted, What tears have washed them from the soul, that one should be deserted...
Сторінка 221 - Yet more ! the billows and the depths have more ! High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle-thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave...
Сторінка 234 - We saw her proud flag struck that morn, A star once o'er the seas — Her anchor gone, her deck uptorn — And sadder things than these...
Сторінка 139 - In every joy that crowns my days, In every pain I bear, My heart shall find delight in praise, Or seek relief in prayer.
Сторінка 260 - Pleasant the wind's low sigh, And the gleaming of the west, And the turf whereon we lie ; When the burden and the heat Of labour's task are o'er, And kindly voices greet The tired one at his door. Come to the sunset tree ! The day is past and gone ; The woodman's axe lies free, And the reaper's work is done.