Други издания - Преглед на всички
appear arms Awake band Bank Bard beneath breath Cambridge College death deep defire dread Earl edition Edward fable face fame FATAL fate father fhade fhall fide fire firſt flowers folemn fome fong forrow foul France fuch gave give grace grave Gray Gray's hand head hear heard heart hence Henry holy human hundred pounds Ibid Italy kind King Lady laid land laughing leave light lines live London Lord Love lyre Mafon Maſon mind Morn mother night notes o'er ODIN once pain perfon poems Poet Power printed publiſher Queen race reign round ſhall ſtrains tear thee theſe THOMAS thou thought thro Till triumph vifit voice wait Weave whofe wind wing youth
Страница 156 - customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree ; Another came ; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he : The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Страница 100 - Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the zephyr blows, While proudly riding o'er the azure realm In gallant trim the gilded vessel goes: Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm: Regardless of the sweeping whirlwind's sway, That hush'd in grim repose expects his evening prey.
Страница 45 - To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
Страница 91 - Yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way Beyond the limits of a vulgar fate. Beneath the Good how far— but far above the Great.
Страница 96 - To arms ! cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quiv'ring lance.. I. 2 On a rock, whose haughty brow Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
Страница 156 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Страница 149 - THE CURFEW tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Страница 60 - A grisly troop are seen, The painful family of Death, More hideous than their Queen: This racks the joints, this fires the veins, That every labouring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo!