Pearls from the poets: specimens selected, with biogr. notes, by H.W. DulckenHenry William Dulcken 1860 |
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Сторінка 10
... light , And on his head a garland well beseen He wore , from which , as he had chafed been , The sweat did drop , and in his hand he bore A bow and shafts , as he in forest green Had hunted late the leopard or the boar , And now would ...
... light , And on his head a garland well beseen He wore , from which , as he had chafed been , The sweat did drop , and in his hand he bore A bow and shafts , as he in forest green Had hunted late the leopard or the boar , And now would ...
Сторінка 12
... light , Goddess , excellently bright . Earth , let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose ; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear , when day did close : Bless us then with wished sight , Goddess , excellently bright ...
... light , Goddess , excellently bright . Earth , let not thy envious shade Dare itself to interpose ; Cynthia's shining orb was made Heaven to clear , when day did close : Bless us then with wished sight , Goddess , excellently bright ...
Сторінка 18
... light . For the source of glory uncovers his face , And the brightness o'erflows unbounded space ; And we drink , as we go , the luminous tides , In our ruddy air and our blooming sides : SONG OF THE STARS . Lo , yonder the living SONG ...
... light . For the source of glory uncovers his face , And the brightness o'erflows unbounded space ; And we drink , as we go , the luminous tides , In our ruddy air and our blooming sides : SONG OF THE STARS . Lo , yonder the living SONG ...
Сторінка 20
... light . Glide on in your beauty , ye youthful spheres ! To weave the dance that measures the years . Glide on in the glory and gladness sent To the farthest wall of the firmament , The boundless visible smile of Him , To the veil of ...
... light . Glide on in your beauty , ye youthful spheres ! To weave the dance that measures the years . Glide on in the glory and gladness sent To the farthest wall of the firmament , The boundless visible smile of Him , To the veil of ...
Сторінка 24
... light and fair , I take my little porringer , And eat my supper there . The first that died was little Jane ; In bed she moaning lay , Till God released her of her pain ; And then she went away . So in the churchyard she was laid ; And ...
... light and fair , I take my little porringer , And eat my supper there . The first that died was little Jane ; In bed she moaning lay , Till God released her of her pain ; And then she went away . So in the churchyard she was laid ; And ...
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ALEXANDER POPE battle BATTLE OF WATERLOO beauty behold beneath BERNARD BARTON Blest born bower breath bright Cam'rons CHARLES LAMB charm cheek cheerful child churchway clouds cold COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD dark dead death deep died dost doth e'en earth EDGAR ALLAN POE ELEGY WRITTEN Elizabethan era EPICEDIUM eyes fair fame fire flowers genius gilded lilies glory grace grave green hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills Honour hour light lonely look loud MILTON moon morn mother mother's love mouldering mournful ne'er never night numbers o'er old familiar faces poems poet praise pride reign round sigh silent sing SIR JOHN MOORE Skiddaw sleep smile soft song soothe sorrow soul sound SPANISH ARMADA spirit star stormy winds Sweet Mary tears thee THOMAS CAMPBELL THOMAS OTWAY thou art thou busy thought tower Twas voice waves weary weep wild winds do blow woods youth
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Сторінка 55 - Like a poet hidden In the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, Till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not : Like a high-born maiden In a palace tower, Soothing her love-laden Soul in secret hour With music sweet as love, which overflows her bower...
Сторінка 137 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o'er-brimmed their clammy cells — Who hath not seen thee oft amid thy store?
Сторінка 14 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose.
Сторінка 156 - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a" the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi
Сторінка 27 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Сторінка 115 - Peace to all such ! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Сторінка 138 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide; 'Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?' I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, 'God doth not need Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state Is kingly: thousands...
Сторінка 22 - She had a rustic, woodlai.d air, And she was wildly clad; Her eyes were fair, and very fair; — Her beauty made me glad. " Sisters and brothers, little maid, How many may you be? " " How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Сторінка 121 - WHAT needs my Shakespeare for his honoured bones The labour of an age in piled stones ? Or that his hallowed reliques should be hid Under a star-ypointing pyramid ? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name ? Thou in our wonder and astonishment Hast built thyself a livelong monument.
Сторінка 56 - Yet if we could scorn Hate, and pride, and fear; If we were things born Not to shed a tear, I know not how thy joy we ever should come near. Better than all measures Of delightful sound, Better than all treasures That in books are found, Thy skill to poet were, thou scorner of the ground ! Teach me half the gladness That thy brain must know, Such harmonious madness From my lips would flow, The world should listen then, as I am listening now.