Poems, Volume 2Hilliard, Gray, 1827 |
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Pagina 4
... burst On the parch'd traveller in his hour of thirst , E'en thus they haunt me with sweet sounds , till worn By quenchless longings , to my soul I say- Oh ! for the dove's swift wings , that I might flee away , III . And find mine ark ...
... burst On the parch'd traveller in his hour of thirst , E'en thus they haunt me with sweet sounds , till worn By quenchless longings , to my soul I say- Oh ! for the dove's swift wings , that I might flee away , III . And find mine ark ...
Pagina 31
... burst of passion ! -on his breast , Like a bird panting yet from fear she lay , But blest - in misery's very lap — yet blest ! — Oh love , love , strong as death ! -from such an hour Pressing out joy by thine immortal power , Holy and ...
... burst of passion ! -on his breast , Like a bird panting yet from fear she lay , But blest - in misery's very lap — yet blest ! — Oh love , love , strong as death ! -from such an hour Pressing out joy by thine immortal power , Holy and ...
Pagina 36
... free the foaming swiftness of your course ! -I burst from those that held me back , and fell Ev'n on his neck , and cried- " Friend , brother ! fare thee well ! 99 Did he not say LXVIII . " Farewell ? " 36 THE FOREST SANCTUARY .
... free the foaming swiftness of your course ! -I burst from those that held me back , and fell Ev'n on his neck , and cried- " Friend , brother ! fare thee well ! 99 Did he not say LXVIII . " Farewell ? " 36 THE FOREST SANCTUARY .
Pagina 40
... burst of day For which th ' uprooting of an oak makes way ; — They sweep the colouring mists from off our sight , They touch with fire thought's graven page , the roll Stamp'd with past years - and lo ! it shrivels as a scroll ! LXXV ...
... burst of day For which th ' uprooting of an oak makes way ; — They sweep the colouring mists from off our sight , They touch with fire thought's graven page , the roll Stamp'd with past years - and lo ! it shrivels as a scroll ! LXXV ...
Pagina 41
... burst , its darkness teem'd With such pent storms of thought ! —again I fled— I fled , a refuge from man's face to gain , Scarce conscious when I paused , entering a lonely fane . LXXVII . A mighty minster , dim , and proud , and vast ...
... burst , its darkness teem'd With such pent storms of thought ! —again I fled— I fled , a refuge from man's face to gain , Scarce conscious when I paused , entering a lonely fane . LXXVII . A mighty minster , dim , and proud , and vast ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
ancient art thou beautiful bended Bow bless'd blue streams bowers breast breath breeze bright bright land Bring flowers brow burst call'd dark death deep didst dreams dust dwell earth England's dead ev'n fade faint fair fair brow falchion farewell fear fled floating fount gaze glance gleam gloom glow grave hath hear heard heart Heaven hour house of sleep hush'd joyous Lake of Lucerne land leave light lips lone look look'd lyre midst mighty mirth Moorish mournful night Odin Oronoco pale pass'd pine pour'd rest rills Rio verde round Sea-king seas seem'd shades shadows shining shore sigh silent sleep slumber smile soft soft eyes song soul sound Spain spears spirit spring stars stood storm streams sweet sword tears thee Theseus thine thou art Thou hast thou wert thought tomb tone voice wave weep wild wind woods wouldst thou young
Populaire passages
Pagina 190 - Give back the lost and lovely ! — those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long, The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke midst festal song ! Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown — But all is not thine own. To thee the love of woman hath gone down, Dark flow thy tides o'er manhood's noble head, O'er youth's bright locks, and beauty's flowery crown : Yet must thou hear a voice — Restore the dead ! Earth shall reclaim her...
Pagina 231 - midst the blooms of the morn may dwell, I tarry no longer — farewell, farewell ! The summer is coming, on soft winds borne, Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn '. For me, I depart to a brighter shore, Ye are mark'd by care, ye are mine no more. I go where the loved who have left you dwell, And the flowers are not Death's — fare ye well, farewell ! THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
Pagina 91 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Pagina 225 - CHILD, amidst the flowers at play, While the red light fades away ; Mother, with thine earnest eye, Ever following silently ; Father, by the breeze of eve Call'd thy harvest work to leave — Pray : ere yet the dark hours be, Lift the heart and bend the knee...
Pagina 97 - And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.
Pagina 225 - Traveller, in the stranger's land, Far from thine own household band ; Mourner, haunted by the tone Of a voice from this world gone ; Captive, in whose narrow cell Sunshine hath, not leave to dwell ; Sailor, on the darkening sea — Lift the heart and bend the knee...
Pagina 146 - Amidst the knightly ring: A murmur of the restless deep Was blent with every strain, A voice of winds that would not sleep — He never smiled again. Hearts, in that time, closed o'er the trace Of vows once fondly pour'd, And strangers took the kinsman's...
Pagina 100 - Anon some wilder portraiture he draws ; Of Nature's savage glories he would speak, — The loneliness of earth that overawes, — Where, resting by some tomb of old Cacique, The lama-driver on Peruvia's peak Nor...
Pagina 98 - In the solitude of the seas, we hail a star as a friend from whom we have long been separated. Among the Portuguese and the Spaniards peculiar motives seem to increase this feeling; a religious sentiment attaches them to a constellation, the form of which recalls the sign of the faith planted by their ancestors in the deserts of the New World.
Pagina 146 - He lived — for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain ; Why comes not death to those who mourn ? He never smiled again ! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave, But which could fill the place of one...