The Select Poetical WorksPhillips & Sampson, 1848 - 406 pagina's |
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Pagina 13
... weep for Those , .. ..217 Saul , ...... .218 On Jordan's Banks , ..219 If that high World ,. My Soul is Dark , I saw thee weep ,. ......... Song of Saul before his last Battle , Were my Bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be ,. From ...
... weep for Those , .. ..217 Saul , ...... .218 On Jordan's Banks , ..219 If that high World ,. My Soul is Dark , I saw thee weep ,. ......... Song of Saul before his last Battle , Were my Bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be ,. From ...
Pagina 15
... weeping , .361 The East , .365 The Adieu , .. ......... ..366 Sonnet , ..... .370 On this Day I complete my Thirty - sixth Year ,. Ode on Venice , .371 .373 Theresa , ...... .... 378 Extract from an unpublished Poem , .... Lines ...
... weeping , .361 The East , .365 The Adieu , .. ......... ..366 Sonnet , ..... .370 On this Day I complete my Thirty - sixth Year ,. Ode on Venice , .371 .373 Theresa , ...... .... 378 Extract from an unpublished Poem , .... Lines ...
Pagina 33
... linger o'er Scenes hailed as exiles hail their native shore , Receding slowly through the dark - blue deep , Beheld by eyes that mourn , yet cannot weep . Dorset , farewell ! I will not ask one part HOURS OF IDLENESS . 33.
... linger o'er Scenes hailed as exiles hail their native shore , Receding slowly through the dark - blue deep , Beheld by eyes that mourn , yet cannot weep . Dorset , farewell ! I will not ask one part HOURS OF IDLENESS . 33.
Pagina 41
... the sculptor's art . No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep , But living statues there are seen to weep ; Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb , Affliction's self HOURS OF IDLENESS . 41 Epitaph on a Friend,
... the sculptor's art . No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep , But living statues there are seen to weep ; Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb , Affliction's self HOURS OF IDLENESS . 41 Epitaph on a Friend,
Pagina 47
... weep at your deceiving . " ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING , ADDRESSED TO MISS DEAR simple girl , those flattering arts , From which thoud'st guard frail female hearts Exist but in imagination , — Mere phantoms of thine own creation ; For he ...
... weep at your deceiving . " ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING , ADDRESSED TO MISS DEAR simple girl , those flattering arts , From which thoud'st guard frail female hearts Exist but in imagination , — Mere phantoms of thine own creation ; For he ...
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Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
art thou bard beam beauty behold beneath bless blest blood bosom breast breath brow Calmar canst CATULLUS charms cheek chief cold dare dark dead dear death deep dread dream dwell e'en earth expire fair fairy bowers falchion fame fate fear feel flow fond forget friendship gaze glory glow grave Greece grief hate hath heart heaven hope hour immortal kiss Latian live Lochlin Lord Byron lyre Mathon mind mingle Morven mourn muse NAPOLEON BONAPARTE ne'er never NEWFOUNDLAND DOG NEWSTEAD ABBEY night numbers o'er once Orla Oscar pangs perchance praise pride Probus remembrance rise roll Samian wine scene seek shade shine shore sigh sleep slumber smile soar soft song soothe sorrow soul spirit strain sweet tears thee thine thou art thou hast thou wert thought throng trembling truth voice wandering wave weep wild wings youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 318 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations — all were his ! He counted them at break of day — And when the sun set, where were they?
Pagina 214 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Pagina 319 - Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? Must we but blush ?— Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae...
Pagina 192 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low. So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart. Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel „ While the same plumage that had warmed his nest, Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Pagina 320 - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! On Suli's rock and Parga's shore Exists the remnant of a line Such as the Doric mothers bore ; And there, perhaps, some seed is sown The Heracleidan blood might own.
Pagina 265 - Adieu, adieu ! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue ; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight: Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land— Good Night!
Pagina 332 - O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!
Pagina 240 - Had wander'd from its dwelling, and her eyes They had not their own lustre, but the look Which is not of the earth; she was become The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts Were combinations of disjointed things; And forms impalpable and unperceived Of others
Pagina 320 - Trust not for freedom to the Franks — They have a king who buys and sells: In native swords, and native ranks, The only hope of courage dwells ; But Turkish force and Latin fraud Would break your shield, however broad.
Pagina 214 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail...