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Balliol College Balliol Fellow beauty bells beneath blue breast breath breeze bright Broad Street brow calm Cambridge clouds College Rhymes Advertising Coloured crown dark dead death deep ditto dons dream dying e'en earth Exeter Coll eyes F. T. Palgrave face fair Fcap flowers gazed gleam golden Gorlois hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Hero and Leander John Conington king kiss land laughing light Loch Katrine look maiden morn ne'er Neath NEWDIGATE PRIZE night o'er ocean Oriel Oxford pale peace plain Poems pray Price Queen's College rest Rhymes Advertising Sheet roar rose Scholar of Balliol shore SHRIMPTON sigh silent sing Sisera sleep smile soft song sorrow soul stream summer sweet tears tell thee thou thought TURL STREET Universities of Oxford Uther Pendragon Vere voice Wadh wave weary whispered wild wind words
Страница 189 - In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity : The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them, Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime. In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook. Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look ; But with a sweet forgetting They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time.
Страница 189 - Other Romans shall arise, Heedless of a soldier's name, Sounds, not arms, shall win the prize, Harmony the path to fame. Then the progeny that springs From the forests of our land, Armed with thunder, clad with wings, Shall a wider world command. Regions Caesar never knew Thy posterity shall sway, Where his eagles never flew, None invincible as they.
Страница 163 - Three years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said: "A lovelier flower On earth was never sown; This child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. "Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse; and with me The girl in rock and plain, In earth and heaven, in glade and bower, Shall feel an overseeing power, To kindle or restrain.
Страница 189 - Such the bard's prophetic words, Pregnant with celestial fire, Bending as he swept the chords Of his sweet but awful lyre. She with all a monarch's pride, Felt them in her bosom glow, Rushed to battle, fought and died, Dying, hurled them at the foe. Ruffians ! pitiless as proud, Heaven awards the vengeance due ; Empire is on us bestowed, Shame and ruin wait for you ! HEROISM.
Страница 132 - When I am dead, my dearest, Sing no sad songs for me; Plant thou no roses at my head, Nor shady cypress tree: Be the green grass above me With showers and dewdrops wet; And if thou wilt, remember, And if thou wilt, forget.
Страница 189 - Tis because resentment ties All the terrors of our tongues. ' Rome shall perish, — write that word In the blood that she has spilt ; Perish hopeless and abhorred, Deep in ruin as in guilt. 'Rome, for empire far renowned, Tramples on a thousand states ; Soon her pride shall kiss the ground,— Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates.
Страница 189 - In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy brook. Thy bubblings ne'er remember Apollo's summer look ; But with a sweet forgetting They stay their crystal fretting, Never, never petting About the frozen time. Ah ! would 'twere so with many A gentle girl and boy ! But were there ever any Writhed not at passed joy ? To know the change and feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steal it — Was never said in rhyme.
Страница 189 - the Deep Voice cried, " So long enjoyed, so oft misused — Alternate, in thy fickle pride, Desired, neglected, and accused? " Before my breath, like blazing flax, Man and his marvels pass away ; And changing empires wane and wax, Are founded, flourish, and decay. " Redeem mine hours — the space is brief — While in my glass the sand-grains shiver, And measureless thy joy or grief, When TIME and thou shall part for ever...
Страница 189 - He talked of the past and present, and all looked cheerful and bright. He talked of a soft Spring morning, when first he saw my face : — He was an unknown painter, and had come to stay in the place ; And he used to take his painting out in the sunny land — It was there that first I met him, it was there that he asked my hand. And oft at eve in the sunlight by the fern-clad stile we stood, That leads from the field of clover into the hazel wood ; While the thousand voices of labour came up from...