The Englishman in Greece: Being a Collection of Verse of Many English PoetsClarendon Press, 1910 - 327 страници |
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Страница 12
... Muses 71. Sonnet 71 * . Simonides 73. Sappho . 74. Sapphics J. Lyly 142 7. Fletcher 142 J. Keats 143 J. Milton 144 M. Arnold 144 W. S. Landor 145 J.Lyly 146 J. Keats 147 E. B. Browning 149 J. Fletcher 151 P. B. Shelley 152 B. Jonson 153 ...
... Muses 71. Sonnet 71 * . Simonides 73. Sappho . 74. Sapphics J. Lyly 142 7. Fletcher 142 J. Keats 143 J. Milton 144 M. Arnold 144 W. S. Landor 145 J.Lyly 146 J. Keats 147 E. B. Browning 149 J. Fletcher 151 P. B. Shelley 152 B. Jonson 153 ...
Страница 17
... muse , The hero's harp , the lover's lute , Have found the fame your shores refuse : Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires''Islands of the Blest ' . 3 The mountains look on Marathon- And ...
... muse , The hero's harp , the lover's lute , Have found the fame your shores refuse : Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires''Islands of the Blest ' . 3 The mountains look on Marathon- And ...
Страница 31
... Muse to stranger's eyc The graves of those that cannot die ! 30 LORD BYRON ( The Giaour , 103–35 ) . 6 . For Greece and Crete TORM and shame and fraud and darkness fill the STORM nations full with night : Hope and fear whose eyes yearn ...
... Muse to stranger's eyc The graves of those that cannot die ! 30 LORD BYRON ( The Giaour , 103–35 ) . 6 . For Greece and Crete TORM and shame and fraud and darkness fill the STORM nations full with night : Hope and fear whose eyes yearn ...
Страница 36
... Muse's tales seem truly told , Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon ; Each hill and dale , each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone : Age shakes ...
... Muse's tales seem truly told , Till the sense aches with gazing to behold The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon ; Each hill and dale , each deepening glen and wold Defies the power which crush'd thy temples gone : Age shakes ...
Страница 37
... bards adore , As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore . The parted bosom clings to wonted home , If aught that's kindred cheer the welcome hearth ; He that is lonely , hither let him roam , 37 MARATHON Athena Speaks.
... bards adore , As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore . The parted bosom clings to wonted home , If aught that's kindred cheer the welcome hearth ; He that is lonely , hither let him roam , 37 MARATHON Athena Speaks.
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Други издания - Преглед на всички
Често срещани думи и фрази
A. C. SWINBURNE Aphrodite Argolis Artemidora Asopus Athens Autonoë beauty behold beneath breast breath bright brow cave cloud crown dark darkened dear death deep delight divine doth dream earth eyes fair fear feet fire flame flowers glory Goddess Gods golden Greece green grey hair hand happy harken ere hast hath hear heart heaven Hellas hills Hippias Hymettus immortal isle Itylus king kiss land light lips live look LORD BYRON lyre Maenad maiden mortal mother Ida mountain Muses Naiads never night Nymph o'er ORPHEUS pale Pallas Pan is dead Pheidippides Phoebus poet praise river rocks round Samian wine Satyrs shadows shore silent sing sleep smile soft song soul sound spake spirit spring stars stood stream sweet tears Theseus thine things thou Thrasymedes thro violet voice waves weep wild wind wine wings withered youth Zeus ΙΟ
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Страница 172 - Homer ruled as his demesne : Yet did I never breathe its pure serene Till I heard Chapman speak out loud and bold: Then felt I like some watcher of the skies When a new planet swims into his ken ; Or like stout Cortez when with eagle eyes He...
Страница 176 - Everything that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art : Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or, hearing, die.
Страница 307 - Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel, Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn? And, little town, thy streets for evermore Will silent be ; and not a soul to tell Why thou art desolate, can e'er return.
Страница 300 - he said, and pointed toward the land, ' This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.' In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon.
Страница 306 - What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Страница 25 - Our breath shall intermix, our bosoms bound, And our veins beat together; and our lips, With o'ther eloquence than words, eclipse The soul that burns between them ; and the wells Which boil under our being's inmost cells, The fountains of our deepest life, shall be Confused in passion's golden purity, As mountain-springs under the morning Sun. We shall become the same, we shall be one Spirit within two frames, oh ! wherefore two...
Страница 20 - 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. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! Our virgins dance beneath the shade...
Страница 274 - Fresh as the foam, new-bathed in Paphian wells, With rosy slender fingers backward drew From her warm brows and bosom her deep hair Ambrosial, golden round her lucid throat And shoulder: from the violets her light foot Shone rosy-white, and o'er her rounded form Between the shadows of the vine-bunches Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved. "Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
Страница 269 - THERE lies a vale in Ida, lovelier Than all the valleys of Ionian hills. The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen, Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine. And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Страница 216 - THEY told me, Heraclitus, they told me you were dead, They brought me bitter news to hear and bitter tears to shed. I wept as I remember'd how often you and I Had tired the sun with talking and sent him down the sky...