The Pageant of English PoetryH. Frowde, 1909 - 606 страници |
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Страница 11
... song Swell within their glens and valleys As the clansmen march along ! Never from the field of combat , Never from the deadly fray , Was a nobler trophy carried Than we bring with us to - day ; Never , since the valiant Douglas On his ...
... song Swell within their glens and valleys As the clansmen march along ! Never from the field of combat , Never from the deadly fray , Was a nobler trophy carried Than we bring with us to - day ; Never , since the valiant Douglas On his ...
Страница 12
... SONG THOU hast more music in thy | Go , search through Heaven — the voice Than to the spheres is given , And more temptations on thy lips Than lost the angels Heaven . Thou hast more brightness in thine eyes Than all the stars which ...
... SONG THOU hast more music in thy | Go , search through Heaven — the voice Than to the spheres is given , And more temptations on thy lips Than lost the angels Heaven . Thou hast more brightness in thine eyes Than all the stars which ...
Страница 18
... song in the grove : ' Twas thus , by the cave of the mountain afar , While his harp rung symphonious , a hermit began ; No more with himself or with nature at war , He thought as a sage , though he felt as a man . ( • • • ' Tis night ...
... song in the grove : ' Twas thus , by the cave of the mountain afar , While his harp rung symphonious , a hermit began ; No more with himself or with nature at war , He thought as a sage , though he felt as a man . ( • • • ' Tis night ...
Страница 23
... song For ever used to be : - I care for nobody , not I , If no one cares for me . I. BICKERSTAFFE ( Love in a Village ) . No lark more blithe than he . 47. THE END OF LIFE SURE the last end Of the good man is peace ! How calm his exit ...
... song For ever used to be : - I care for nobody , not I , If no one cares for me . I. BICKERSTAFFE ( Love in a Village ) . No lark more blithe than he . 47. THE END OF LIFE SURE the last end Of the good man is peace ! How calm his exit ...
Страница 26
... SONGS OF INNOCENCE ' PIPING down the valleys wild , Piping songs of pleasant glee , On a cloud I saw a child , And he laughing said to me : ' Pipe a song about a Lamb ! ' " So I piped with merry cheer . ' Piper , pipe that song again ...
... SONGS OF INNOCENCE ' PIPING down the valleys wild , Piping songs of pleasant glee , On a cloud I saw a child , And he laughing said to me : ' Pipe a song about a Lamb ! ' " So I piped with merry cheer . ' Piper , pipe that song again ...
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A. H. CLOUGH angels auld lang syne beauty bel ami beneath birds blow breast breath bright cheek child clouds crown dark Dark Rosaleen dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth eyes face fair fear flowers frae friends glorious glory gone grace grave green hand happy hast hath hear heart heaven honour hour King kiss lady Lady of Shalott land leaves light lips live look LORD LORD BYRON LORD TENNYSON love thee maid mind morn ne'er never night o'er praise rest rose round SHAKESPEARE shine shore sigh sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spring star sweet T. L. PEACOCK tears tell thine things thou art thought Timor Mortis conturbat tree Twas unto voice W. M. THACKERAY waves weep wild wind youth
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Страница 276 - Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 'Tis but the flapping of the sail, And not a rent made by the gale ! In spite of rock and tempest's roar, In spite of false lights on the shore. Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea ! Our hearts, our hopes, are all with th.ee.
Страница 242 - Charmed magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn. Forlorn ! The very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu ! The fancy cannot cheat so well As she is famed to do, deceiving elf. Adieu ! Adieu ! Thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music. . . . Do I wake or sleep?
Страница 399 - This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden demi-paradise ; This fortress, built by nature for herself, Against infection, and the hand of war; This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England...
Страница 415 - And moan the expense of many a vanished sight: Then can I grieve at grievances foregone, And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan, Which I new pay as if not paid before. But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, All losses are restored and sorrows end.
Страница 416 - Keen as are the arrows Of that silver sphere, Whose intense lamp narrows In the white dawn clear, Until we hardly see, we feel that it is there. All the earth and air With thy voice is loud, As, when night is bare, From one lonely cloud The moon rains out her beams, and heaven is overflowed. What thou art we know not; What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not Drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden, In the light of thought, Singing...
Страница 246 - O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede Of marble men and maidens overwrought, With forest branches and the trodden weed; Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral! When old age shall this generation waste, Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say'st, "Beauty is truth, truth beauty," — that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
Страница 503 - For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck You've fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is...
Страница 317 - WHEN I consider how my light is spent, 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 To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?
Страница 205 - Out of the night that covers me, Black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be For my unconquerable soul. In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance My head is bloody, but unbowed. Beyond this place of wrath and tears Looms but the Horror of the shade, And yet the menace of the years Finds and shall find me unafraid. It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate...
Страница 66 - And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride : And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail ; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might...