The Miscellaneous Poems of William Wordsworth, Том 3Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1820 |
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Результати 6-10 із 47
Сторінка 49
... This Cross in tears : by her , and One Unworthier far , we are undone - Her Brother was it who assailed Her tender spirit and prevailed . VOL . III . D Her other Parent , too , whose head In the CANTO III . 49 OF RYLSTONE .
... This Cross in tears : by her , and One Unworthier far , we are undone - Her Brother was it who assailed Her tender spirit and prevailed . VOL . III . D Her other Parent , too , whose head In the CANTO III . 49 OF RYLSTONE .
Сторінка 58
William Wordsworth. " But oh ! thou Angel from above , Thou Spirit of maternal love , That stood'st before my eyes , more clear Than Ghosts are fabled to appear Sent upon embassies of fear ; As thou thy presence hast to me Vouchsafed ...
William Wordsworth. " But oh ! thou Angel from above , Thou Spirit of maternal love , That stood'st before my eyes , more clear Than Ghosts are fabled to appear Sent upon embassies of fear ; As thou thy presence hast to me Vouchsafed ...
Сторінка 79
... Spirit wrong , Whose self - reproaches are too strong ! " At this he from the beaten road Retreated towards a brake of thorn , Which like a place of ' vantage shewed ; And there stood bravely , though forlorn . In self - defence with ...
... Spirit wrong , Whose self - reproaches are too strong ! " At this he from the beaten road Retreated towards a brake of thorn , Which like a place of ' vantage shewed ; And there stood bravely , though forlorn . In self - defence with ...
Сторінка 82
... She reached the grave , and with her breast Upon the ground received the rest , The consummation , the whole ruth And sorrow of this final truth ! - CANTO SEVENTH . THOU Spirit , whose angelic hand Was 82 CANTO VI . THE WHITE DOE.
... She reached the grave , and with her breast Upon the ground received the rest , The consummation , the whole ruth And sorrow of this final truth ! - CANTO SEVENTH . THOU Spirit , whose angelic hand Was 82 CANTO VI . THE WHITE DOE.
Сторінка 83
William Wordsworth. CANTO SEVENTH . THOU Spirit , whose angelic hand Was to the Harp a strong command , Called the submissive strings to wake In glory for this Maiden's sake , Say , Spirit ! whither hath she fled To hide her poor ...
William Wordsworth. CANTO SEVENTH . THOU Spirit , whose angelic hand Was to the Harp a strong command , Called the submissive strings to wake In glory for this Maiden's sake , Say , Spirit ! whither hath she fled To hide her poor ...
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Інші видання - Показати все
Загальні терміни та фрази
admiration ancient appear Banner beautiful behold beneath blest bold Bolton bosom bower Brancepeth brave breath bright CALAIS calm chear Child city of Durham clouds CONVENTION OF CINTRA Creature dark dear delight doth earth Emily fair faith Father fear flowers Francis Friend Furness Fells genius gentle gleam glory grace GRASMERE green Islands ground Guernica hand happy hath hear heard heart Heaven hill holy hope hour human Lady liberty look Lord loved Stream Maid meek mighty mind mortal murmur naiads nature night Norton o'er Ossian Paradise Lost peace pensive Poem Poet poetry praise prayer pure RIVER DERWENT Rylstone Shakespeare shewed sight silent sing sleep song SONNETS sorrow soul spirit stars stood stream sublime sweet thee thine thing THOMAS CLARKSON thou art thought Towers triumph truth Vale voice White Doe wind words Ye Men youth
Популярні уривки
Сторінка 157 - IT is a beauteous evening, calm and free ; The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration...
Сторінка 220 - IT is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, ' with pomp of waters, unwithstood,' Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands, That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish ; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old : We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That...
Сторінка 154 - Sleepless! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear...
Сторінка 129 - NUNS fret not at their convent's narrow room ; And hermits are contented with their cells , And students with their pensive citadels , Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom, Sit blithe and happy ; bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells, Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells...
Сторінка 221 - Now, when I think of thee, and what thou art, Verily, in the bottom of my heart, Of those unfilial fears I am ashamed. For dearly must we prize thee ; we who find In thee a bulwark for the cause of men ; And I by my affection was beguiled : What wonder if a Poet now...
Сторінка 139 - But how could I forget thee? Through what power, Even for the least division of an hour, Have I been so beguiled as to be blind To my most grievous loss!
Сторінка 217 - O FRIEND ! I know not which way I must look For comfort, being, as I am, opprest, To think that now our life is only drest For show ; mean handy-work of craftsman, cook, Or groom ! We must run glittering like a brook In the open sunshine, or we are unblest : The wealthiest man among us is the best : No grandeur now in nature or in book Delights us.
Сторінка 210 - ON THE EXTINcTION OF THE VENETIAN REPUBLIc. ONcE did She hold the gorgeous East in fee ; And was the safeguard of the West : the worth Of Venice did not fall below her birth, Venice, the eldest Child of Liberty.
Сторінка 226 - Raised up to sway the world, to do, undo, With mighty Nations for his underlings, The great events with which old story rings Seem vain and hollow ; I find nothing great : Nothing is left which I can venerate ; So that a doubt almost within me springs Of Providence, such emptiness at length Seems at the heart of all things.
Сторінка 150 - is life; we have seen and see, And with a living pleasure we describe ; And fits of sprightly malice do but bribe The languid mind into activity. Sound sense, and love itself, and mirth and glee Are, fostered by the comment and the gibe.