The Beauties of the British Poets: With a Few Introductory ObservationsR.B. Seeley and W. Burnside, 1828 - 367 עמודים |
מתוך הספר
תוצאות 1-5 מתוך 21
עמוד 53
... star that Heaven doth shew , And every herb that sips the dew ; Till old Experience do attain To something like prophetic strain . These pleasures , Melancholy , give , And I with thee will choose to live . LYCIDAS . Yet once more , O ...
... star that Heaven doth shew , And every herb that sips the dew ; Till old Experience do attain To something like prophetic strain . These pleasures , Melancholy , give , And I with thee will choose to live . LYCIDAS . Yet once more , O ...
עמוד 54
... , We drove a - field , and both together heard What time the grey fly winds her sultry horn , Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night , Oft till the star that rose at evening bright Toward 54 Milton . Lycidas.
... , We drove a - field , and both together heard What time the grey fly winds her sultry horn , Battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night , Oft till the star that rose at evening bright Toward 54 Milton . Lycidas.
עמוד 55
With a Few Introductory Observations George Croly. Oft till the star that rose at evening bright Toward heaven's descent had sloped his west'ring wheel . Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute , Tempered to the oaten flute ; Rough ...
With a Few Introductory Observations George Croly. Oft till the star that rose at evening bright Toward heaven's descent had sloped his west'ring wheel . Meanwhile the rural ditties were not mute , Tempered to the oaten flute ; Rough ...
עמוד 58
... star sparely looks , Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes , That on the green - turf suck the honied showers , And purple all the ground with vernal flowers . Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies , The tufted crow - toe ...
... star sparely looks , Throw hither all your quaint enamelled eyes , That on the green - turf suck the honied showers , And purple all the ground with vernal flowers . Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies , The tufted crow - toe ...
עמוד 59
... star in the ocean bed , And yet anon repairs his drooping head , And tricks his beams , and with new - spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : So Lycidas sunk low , but mounted high , Through the dear might of Him that ...
... star in the ocean bed , And yet anon repairs his drooping head , And tricks his beams , and with new - spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky : So Lycidas sunk low , but mounted high , Through the dear might of Him that ...
מהדורות אחרות - הצג הכל
מונחים וביטויים נפוצים
beauty behold beneath bless blest bosom breast breath bright bright eyes brow charms cheerful clouds cold corse dark dead death deep delight Deloraine doth dread e'en earth eternal eyes fair fame farewell fear feel fire flowers GENEVRA George Croly grace grave Greece green grief hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hills honour hope hour labour land light lisp look Lord Lycidas lyre maid mind morn murmurs Muse ne'er never night nymph o'er pain pale peace pleasure poet praise pride raptures rill rise round Samian wine scene shade shine shore sigh silent skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit star sweet Sweet Auburn tears tempests THAMES DITTON thee thine thou art thought toil Twas vale Venice voice wandering wave weary ween weep WESTON GREEN wild wind wretched youth
קטעים בולטים
עמוד 106 - to rest, By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. ODE TO EVENING. If aught of oaten stop, or pastoral song, May hope, O pensive Eve, to soothe thine
עמוד 31 - returns,—puzzles the will; And makes us rather bear the ills we have, Than fly to others that we know not of! Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; And thus the native hue of resolution Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; And enterprises of great pith and moment,
עמוד 332 - him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still would'st thou
עמוד 161 - is laid aside, His lyart hafiets wearing thin an' bare; Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide, He wales a portion with judicious care ; And, 'Let us worship God!' he says, with solemn air. They chant their artless notes in simple guise, They tune their hearts, by
עמוד 304 - quell: He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting-, fell. Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness ; And there were sudden partings,
עמוד 51 - and of trophies hung, In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of forests and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear. Thus night oft see me in thy pale career, Till silver-suited morn appear; Not trickt and frounced as she was wont, With the Attic boy to hunt, But
עמוד 329 - day, And touch the stubble-plains with rosy hue ; Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies; And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn ; Among the river sallows, borne aloft Hedge-crickets sing ; and now with treble soft The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
עמוד 63 - I fondly ask : but Patience, to prevent 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 That murmur, soon replies,
עמוד 164 - Thou's met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure, Thy slender stem; To spare thee now is past my power, Thou bonnie gem. Alas ! its no thy neebor sweet, The bonnie lark, companion meet; Bending thee 'mang the dewy weet, Wi' speckled breast, When upward-springing, blythe, to greet
עמוד 30 - There take an inventory of all I have, To the last penny; 'tis the king's : my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call my own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me to mine enemies. DEATH. To be,