Selections from the British Poets: Chronologically Arranged from Chaucer to the Present Time, Under Separate Divisions, with Introductions Explaining the Different Species of PoetryCommissioners of National Education in Ireland, 1851 |
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Сторінка 56
... glow with ardour of consummate love ; Nor cease at eve , but with the setting sun My endless worship shall be still begun . And , oh ! permit the gloom of solemn night , To sacred thought may forciby invite . When this world's shut ...
... glow with ardour of consummate love ; Nor cease at eve , but with the setting sun My endless worship shall be still begun . And , oh ! permit the gloom of solemn night , To sacred thought may forciby invite . When this world's shut ...
Сторінка 58
... glow . See , heav'n its sparkling portals wide display , And break upon thee in a flood of day . No more the rising sun shall gild the morn , Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn , But lost , dissolv'd in thy superior rays , One ...
... glow . See , heav'n its sparkling portals wide display , And break upon thee in a flood of day . No more the rising sun shall gild the morn , Nor evening Cynthia fill her silver horn , But lost , dissolv'd in thy superior rays , One ...
Сторінка 69
... glow ! What regal vestments can with them compare , What king so shining , or what queen so fair ? If , ceaseless , thus the fowls of Heaven He feeds ; If o'er the fields such lucid robes He spreads ; Will He not care for you , ye ...
... glow ! What regal vestments can with them compare , What king so shining , or what queen so fair ? If , ceaseless , thus the fowls of Heaven He feeds ; If o'er the fields such lucid robes He spreads ; Will He not care for you , ye ...
Сторінка 78
... glow . No - she would warm you with seraphic fire , Heirs as ye are of heaven's eternal day : Would bid you boldly to that heaven aspire , Nor sink and slumber in your cells of clay.` Know , ye were form'd to range yon azure field , In ...
... glow . No - she would warm you with seraphic fire , Heirs as ye are of heaven's eternal day : Would bid you boldly to that heaven aspire , Nor sink and slumber in your cells of clay.` Know , ye were form'd to range yon azure field , In ...
Сторінка 106
... glow . There rose the choral hymn of praise , And trump and timbrel answer'd keen ; And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays , With priest's and warrior's voice between . No portents now our foes amaze , Forsaken Israel wanders lone ; Our ...
... glow . There rose the choral hymn of praise , And trump and timbrel answer'd keen ; And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays , With priest's and warrior's voice between . No portents now our foes amaze , Forsaken Israel wanders lone ; Our ...
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Загальні терміни та фрази
ALEXANDER POPE AMERICAN POETRY beauty beneath birds bless blest bliss bloom BORN bowers breast breath bright calm charms clouds dark death deep delight Descriptive Poetry DIED doth earth English Poetry eternal fair flowers gaze GILES FLETCHER gloom glorious glory glow grave green happy hast hath heart heaven hills hope hour HYMN JAMES THOMSON labour LETITIA ELIZABETH LANDON life's light live look Lord MARK AKENSIDE mighty mind morning mortal mountain mourn murmur nature nature's night numbers o'er pastoral pastoral poetry peace pleasure poetry poets praise prayer rest rill rise ROBERT SOUTHEY round sacred scene shade shine sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit spring stars stream sweet tears tempest thee THEOCRITUS thine things thou art thought toil trees trembling vale voice wave weary wild WILLIAM COWPER WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings youth
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Сторінка 59 - Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher Death ; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined, from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come...
Сторінка 204 - Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell ; And — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of — say, I taught thee...
Сторінка 203 - To die, to sleep ; To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub ; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause : there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life...
Сторінка 429 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, months and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Сторінка 204 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — O Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down...
Сторінка 325 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon. Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Сторінка 144 - We need not bid, for cloister'd cell, Our neighbour and our work farewell, Nor strive to wind ourselves too high For sinful man beneath the sky : The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask ; Room to deny ourselves ; a road To bring us, daily, nearer God.
Сторінка 375 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
Сторінка 11 - This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all.
Сторінка 355 - HAPPY the man, whose wish and care A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air In his own ground Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread, Whose flocks supply him with attire ; Whose trees in summer yield him shade, In winter fire.