Gleanings from the English poets, Chaucer to Tennyson, with biogr. notices of the authors [by R. Inglis].1862 |
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Seite 31
... praise , Recording oft what grace each one had found , What hope of speed , what dread of long delays : The wild forest , the clothed holts with green , With reins availed and swift ybreathed horse ; With cry of hounds and merry blasts ...
... praise , Recording oft what grace each one had found , What hope of speed , what dread of long delays : The wild forest , the clothed holts with green , With reins availed and swift ybreathed horse ; With cry of hounds and merry blasts ...
Seite 40
... praise the trees so straight and hy , The sayling Pine , the Cedar proud and tall , The vine - propp Elme , the Poplar never dry , The builder Oake , sole king of forrests all , The Aspine good for staves , the Cypresse funerall ; The ...
... praise the trees so straight and hy , The sayling Pine , the Cedar proud and tall , The vine - propp Elme , the Poplar never dry , The builder Oake , sole king of forrests all , The Aspine good for staves , the Cypresse funerall ; The ...
Seite 50
... praise to sleight which from good use doth rise ; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; Others , because of both sides I do take My blood from them who did excel in this , Think nature me a man of arms did make . How far they shot ...
... praise to sleight which from good use doth rise ; Some lucky wits impute it but to chance ; Others , because of both sides I do take My blood from them who did excel in this , Think nature me a man of arms did make . How far they shot ...
Seite 73
... praise , applause , and love arise ; What loadstar draweth us all eyes ? Am I awake , or have some dreams conspired To mock my sense with what I most desired ? View I that living face , see I those looks , Which with delight were wont t ...
... praise , applause , and love arise ; What loadstar draweth us all eyes ? Am I awake , or have some dreams conspired To mock my sense with what I most desired ? View I that living face , see I those looks , Which with delight were wont t ...
Seite 75
... praise should have , It is an obscure life , and silent grave . THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST . " BRIGHT portals of the sky , Emboss'd with sparkling stars ; Doors of eternity , With diamantine bars , Your arras rich uphold ; Loose all your ...
... praise should have , It is an obscure life , and silent grave . THE ASCENSION OF CHRIST . " BRIGHT portals of the sky , Emboss'd with sparkling stars ; Doors of eternity , With diamantine bars , Your arras rich uphold ; Loose all your ...
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Gems From the English Poets, Chaucer to Tennyson: With Biographical Notices ... Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
art thou bawbee beauty beneath blest Born Braes breast breath bright Busk clouds Cockpen cried dark dead dear death deep delight Died doth dread earth Edinburgh Review eternal eyes fair falcon crest fame father fear flowers frae friends gazed glory grace grave green happy harp hast hath hear heart heaven hill hour HYMN Kilmeny land light live Lochaber look Lord maun mind morning mountains Nature's ne'er never night nymph o'er Paradise Lost peace pleasure poems poet poetry praise pride published rest rise Robert Southey Robin Gray rose round Rule Britannia Scotland Scottish shade shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stream sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought trembling Twas vale voice wandering wave weary weep wild wind wings Yarrow youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 248 - Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey, Where wealth accumulates, and men decay. Princes and lords may flourish, or may fade; A breath can make them, as a breath has made : But a bold peasantry, their country's pride, When once destroy'd, can never be supplied.
Seite 425 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes By the deep Sea, and music in its roar : I love not Man the less, but Nature more, From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
Seite 48 - ALL the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Seite 226 - The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Seite 46 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice...
Seite 248 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Seite 77 - When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds! Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor-victim bleeds. Your heads must come To the cold tomb: Only the actions of the just Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
Seite 49 - Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that hate thee ; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not : Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's ; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr.
Seite 54 - I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise Doth ask a drink divine; But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine. I sent thee late a rosy wreath, Not so much honouring thee As giving it a hope that there It could not withered be; But thou thereon didst only breathe And sent'st it back to me; Since when it grows, and smells, I swear, Not of itself but thee!
Seite 229 - THE EPITAPH. Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth a Youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown : fair Science...