Choice Poems and LyricsWhittaker, 1862 - 317 Seiten |
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Seite xix
... close behind the snow- white crest ; And in they burst , and on they rushed , while , like a guiding star , Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre . Now , God be praised , the day is ours . Mayenne hath turned his rein ...
... close behind the snow- white crest ; And in they burst , and on they rushed , while , like a guiding star , Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre . Now , God be praised , the day is ours . Mayenne hath turned his rein ...
Seite 18
... close o'er it , which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay , Which her own clay shall cover , heaped and pent , Rider and horse , -friend , foe , in one red burial blent ! W. Edmondstoune Aytoun . Born 1813 . THE BURIAL ...
... close o'er it , which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay , Which her own clay shall cover , heaped and pent , Rider and horse , -friend , foe , in one red burial blent ! W. Edmondstoune Aytoun . Born 1813 . THE BURIAL ...
Seite 30
... close o'er it , which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay , Which her own clay shall cover , heaped and pent , Rider and horse , -friend , foe , in one red burial blent ! W. Edmondstoune Aytoun . Born 1813 . THE BURIAL ...
... close o'er it , which when rent The earth is covered thick with other clay , Which her own clay shall cover , heaped and pent , Rider and horse , -friend , foe , in one red burial blent ! W. Edmondstoune Aytoun . Born 1813 . THE BURIAL ...
Seite 53
... , Startling the cushat out close by the startled lass . Her fluttering heart was ready then for fear : Through the far peeping glades she thought she saw Forms beckoning , luring her ; the while with awe The Holy Cottage . 53.
... , Startling the cushat out close by the startled lass . Her fluttering heart was ready then for fear : Through the far peeping glades she thought she saw Forms beckoning , luring her ; the while with awe The Holy Cottage . 53.
Seite 72
... close , And keep the flame from wasting by repose : I still had hopes , for pride attends us still , Amidst the swains to shew my book - learned skill , Around my fire an evening group to draw , And tell of all I felt , and all I saw ...
... close , And keep the flame from wasting by repose : I still had hopes , for pride attends us still , Amidst the swains to shew my book - learned skill , Around my fire an evening group to draw , And tell of all I felt , and all I saw ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Adelaide Anne Procter battle of Ivry battle of Killiecrankie beneath bird bless blest bloom Born bosom bower brave breast breath bright brow Casa Wappy charms cheerful cloud cold dark David Macbeth Moir dear death deep delight Died dost doth earth eternal eyes fair farewell fear flame flow flower gaze glory glowing grace grave green Grongar Hill hand happy hast hath heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hills hope hour King light Lochaber looked Lord MARGUERITE OF FRANCE morning mother Mother's Love mourn nature's ne'er never Nevermore night o'er peace pleasure praise pride Queen Quoth the Raven rise rose round shade shore sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spring star stream sweet tears thee thine thou art throne toil trembling Twas vale voice waves weep wild wind wing Yarrow youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 26 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Seite 25 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Seite 29 - thing of evil ! — prophet still, if bird or devil ! By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore — Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore?
Seite 28 - Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.' 'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!
Seite 22 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here for evermore.
Seite 47 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
Seite 48 - Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest ; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries ; Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall ; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away thy children leave the land.
Seite 6 - 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, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Seite 46 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Seite 23 - And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "* Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.