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Сторінка 9
... keeps of all thy kindness there , Still outlives many a storm that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced . Thy nightly visits to my chamber made , That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid ; Thy morning bounties ...
... keeps of all thy kindness there , Still outlives many a storm that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced . Thy nightly visits to my chamber made , That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid ; Thy morning bounties ...
Сторінка 14
... keep its ground against many shocks , and amidst many fluctuations . It is a mystery and a marvel to many an observer , how the seemingly frail and precarious interest of the labouring classes should , after all , have the stamina of ...
... keep its ground against many shocks , and amidst many fluctuations . It is a mystery and a marvel to many an observer , how the seemingly frail and precarious interest of the labouring classes should , after all , have the stamina of ...
Сторінка 16
... keeps , yet holds them no relics of popery . He is not so inquisitive after news derived from the privy closet , when the finding an eyry of hawks in his own ground , or the foaling of a colt come of a good strain , are tidings more ...
... keeps , yet holds them no relics of popery . He is not so inquisitive after news derived from the privy closet , when the finding an eyry of hawks in his own ground , or the foaling of a colt come of a good strain , are tidings more ...
Сторінка 18
... keeping his eye on the dog , and inviting him as it were to be his taster . At length , the little animal's fears being something abated , and his appetite quickened by the smell of the victuals , he approached slowly , and with ...
... keeping his eye on the dog , and inviting him as it were to be his taster . At length , the little animal's fears being something abated , and his appetite quickened by the smell of the victuals , he approached slowly , and with ...
Сторінка 30
... keep his ear from being pleased with his music . No man can ask how or why men came to be delighted with peace , but he who is without natural bowels ; who is deprived of all those affections , which can only make life pleasant to him ...
... keep his ear from being pleased with his music . No man can ask how or why men came to be delighted with peace , but he who is without natural bowels ; who is deprived of all those affections , which can only make life pleasant to him ...
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admiration affection Alexander Selkirk ancient animal appear beauty Bezetha bittern blessed body Border called character children of light Christ Christian danger dead death delight desire doth earth enemy England English enjoyment eyes fear feeling frigate give glory hand happy hath heart heaven Heir of Linne honour human interest Justin Martyr king labour land Little John live London look Lord Lord Wilmot luxury manner mind Mississippi Company moral mother nation nature never night noble object observed pass passion persons Petrarch Philaster pleasure poet poetry Queen o'the reason religion rents rich Richard Penderell Rienzi Robin Robin Hood Roman Scotland SCOTTISH BORDERERS seems ship Socrates soul spirit suffer sweet taste thee things THOMAS WARTON thou thought tion truth unto valley virtue whole wind words writers
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Сторінка 116 - Maenad, even from the dim verge Of the horizon to the zenith's height, The locks of the approaching storm. Thou dirge Of the dying year...
Сторінка 128 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy tempests blow — When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Сторінка 32 - That time of year thou may'st in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou seest the twilight of such day, As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all the rest.
Сторінка 31 - Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too, While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows, borne aloft Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn; Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft, And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.
Сторінка 57 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a DEATH? and are there two? Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Сторінка 57 - I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; But or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky.
Сторінка 59 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Сторінка 156 - Creep in our ears: soft stillness and the night Become the touches of sweet harmony. Sit, Jessica. Look, how the floor of heaven Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold; There's not the smallest orb which thou behold'st But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins: Such harmony is in immortal souls; But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Сторінка 56 - There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye! — A weary time! a weary time How glazed each weary eye! When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist — A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
Сторінка 56 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.