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 iv
... lost . " Quintilian says , that the Gracchi " owed their eloquence as much as their birth to their mother ; " nor can we doubt that there is many a Cornelia in our own more fortunate times , who can point to her sons and say , " these ...
... lost . " Quintilian says , that the Gracchi " owed their eloquence as much as their birth to their mother ; " nor can we doubt that there is many a Cornelia in our own more fortunate times , who can point to her sons and say , " these ...
Сторінка 21
... lost unfortunate , To die is now in life my only part . Foes to my greatness ! let your envy rest , In me no taste for grandeur now is found ; Consumed by grief , with heavy ills oppressed , Your wishes and desires will soon be crowned ...
... lost unfortunate , To die is now in life my only part . Foes to my greatness ! let your envy rest , In me no taste for grandeur now is found ; Consumed by grief , with heavy ills oppressed , Your wishes and desires will soon be crowned ...
Сторінка 30
... lost tragedy , " The Myrmi- dons , " which may be translated thus : " As runs the moral of the Libyan fable : The eagle , wounded by a bow - shot arrow , Says , as he sees the plumage in the shaft , Alas ! the fatal feather is my own ...
... lost tragedy , " The Myrmi- dons , " which may be translated thus : " As runs the moral of the Libyan fable : The eagle , wounded by a bow - shot arrow , Says , as he sees the plumage in the shaft , Alas ! the fatal feather is my own ...
Сторінка 31
... Alas ! we know not how . We have each other so engrost , That each is in the union lost . ** * By my own temper I shall guess At thy felicity , And only like my happiness Because it pleaseth thee . KATHARINE PHILIPS . 31.
... Alas ! we know not how . We have each other so engrost , That each is in the union lost . ** * By my own temper I shall guess At thy felicity , And only like my happiness Because it pleaseth thee . KATHARINE PHILIPS . 31.
Сторінка 41
... Lost , ' and The Seasons , ' does not contain a single new image of external nature . " The " Nocturnal Reverie , " though it shows an eye for nature , is tame . The following is the most pleasing specimen of her talent : LIFE'S ...
... Lost , ' and The Seasons , ' does not contain a single new image of external nature . " The " Nocturnal Reverie , " though it shows an eye for nature , is tame . The following is the most pleasing specimen of her talent : LIFE'S ...
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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.