The poetical works of S.T. Coleridge, Том 2 |
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Сторінка 52
... babe for whom she died , Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride ! That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled , Sir Leoline ! And wouldst thou wrong thy only child , Her child and thine ? Within the Baron's heart and brain If thoughts ...
... babe for whom she died , Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride ! That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled , Sir Leoline ! And wouldst thou wrong thy only child , Her child and thine ? Within the Baron's heart and brain If thoughts ...
Сторінка 67
... babe that Even for him it exists ! It moves and stirs in its [ he murmurs : Lives with a separate life : and— “ Is it a spirit ? " " Sure , it has thoughts of its own , and to see is only a language ! " prison ! UTTER the MAHOMET . song ...
... babe that Even for him it exists ! It moves and stirs in its [ he murmurs : Lives with a separate life : and— “ Is it a spirit ? " " Sure , it has thoughts of its own , and to see is only a language ! " prison ! UTTER the MAHOMET . song ...
Сторінка 95
... babe perchance should lisp the notes aright , VI . yore Then is she tenfold gladder than before ! But should disease or chance the darling take , What then avail those songs , which sweet of Were only sweet for their sweet echo's sake ...
... babe perchance should lisp the notes aright , VI . yore Then is she tenfold gladder than before ! But should disease or chance the darling take , What then avail those songs , which sweet of Were only sweet for their sweet echo's sake ...
Сторінка 156
... babe Drooped at the bosom of its famished mother . But ( more than all ) Teresa's perfidy ; The assassin's strong assurance , when no interest , No motive could have tempted him to falsehood : In the first pangs of his awaken'd ...
... babe Drooped at the bosom of its famished mother . But ( more than all ) Teresa's perfidy ; The assassin's strong assurance , when no interest , No motive could have tempted him to falsehood : In the first pangs of his awaken'd ...
Сторінка 160
... babe , While thy poor mother , with a mute entreaty , Fixed her faint eyes on mine . Ah ! not for this , That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom , And with slow anguish wear away thy life , The victim of a useless constancy . I ...
... babe , While thy poor mother , with a mute entreaty , Fixed her faint eyes on mine . Ah ! not for this , That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom , And with slow anguish wear away thy life , The victim of a useless constancy . I ...
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The Poetical Works of S.T. Coleridge: With a Memoir, Том 2 Samuel Taylor Coleridge Повний перегляд - 1871 |
Загальні терміни та фрази
Alhadra Alvar arms art thou babe bard Bathory behold beneath Bethlen bless breath brother Cain cavern child Christabel curse dare dark dastard dead dear death didst doth dream earth Emerick Enter Exit face fair faith fancy father fear gentle Geraldine Glycine guilt hast hath hear heard heart Heaven honour hope Hush Illyria innocent Isid Isidore king land of mist Laska light live look Lord Casimir maid moon Moorish Moresco mother murder ne'er Nether Stowey night o'er Ordonio pray Raab Kiuprili Ragozzi rock Roland de Vaux round S. T. COLERIDGE Saints shield ship Sir Leoline sleep smile soul spake speak spirit stood strange sweet sword tale tears tell Teresa thee thine thing thou art thought traitor Twas voice wood youth Zapolya
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Сторінка 26 - O sweeter than the marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk, With a goodly company! To walk together to the kirk...
Сторінка 9 - 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 14 - The upper air burst into life, And a hundred fire-flags sheen To and fro they were hurried about ; And to and fro, and in and out The wan stars danced between. And the coming wind did roar more loud ; And the sails did sigh like sedge : And the rain poured down from one black cloud The moon was at its edge.
Сторінка 13 - Beyond the shadow of the ship I watched the water-snakes : They moved in tracks of shining white ; And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire : Blue, glossy green, and velvet black They coiled and swam ; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
Сторінка 2 - He holds him with his glittering eye The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years' child: The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner.
Сторінка 3 - Out of the sea came he! And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea. Higher and higher every day, Till over the mast at noon — " The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon.
Сторінка 23 - This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion plump: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, 'Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now?
Сторінка 8 - 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 ! And still it neared and neared : As if it dodged a water-sprite, It plunged and tacked and veered. With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, We could nor laugh nor wail; Through utter drought all dumb we stood! I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, And cried,...
Сторінка 27 - He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small ; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all.
Сторінка 12 - And the balls like pulses beat ; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet. The cold sweat melted from their limbs, Nor rot nor reek did they : The look with which they looked on me Had never passed away. An orphan's curse would drag to hell A spirit from on high ; But oh ! more horrible than that Is the curse in a dead man's eye ! Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, And yet I could not die.