Class-book of English Poetry, Том 1

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Страница 79 - THE shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior! His brow was sad; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior...
Страница 84 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.
Страница 83 - Toiling, — rejoicing, — sorrowing, Onward through life he goes ; Each morning sees some task begin, Each evening sees it close ; Something attempted, something done, Has earned a night's repose.
Страница 139 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Страница 81 - I Remember I remember, I remember, The house where I was born ; The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away...
Страница 80 - In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral glaciers shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior! "Try not the pass!
Страница 141 - Percy present word He would prevent his sport. The English Earl, not fearing that, Did to the woods resort With fifteen hundred bowmen bold, All chosen men of might, Who knew full well in time of need To aim their shafts aright.
Страница 173 - ... sounding ; Caught up to meet Him in the skies, With joy their Lord surrounding ; No gloomy fears their souls dismay ; His presence sheds eternal day On those prepared to meet Him.
Страница 66 - But still, as wilder blew the wind, And as the night grew drearer, Adown the glen rode armed men — Their trampling sounded nearer. ' O haste thee, haste ! ' the lady cries, ' Though tempests round us gather; I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.
Страница 83 - Than reign in this horrible place. 1 am out of humanity's reach, I must finish my journey alone, Never hear the sweet music of speech, I start at the sound of my own. The beasts that roam over the plain, My form with indifference see, They are so unacquainted with man, Their tameness is shocking to me.

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