Selections from the British Poets, Том 2Harper & brothers, 1840 |
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Страница 13
... tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar ; Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star , And waged with Fortune an eternal war ; Chec'k by the scoff of Pride ...
... tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar ; Ah ! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star , And waged with Fortune an eternal war ; Chec'k by the scoff of Pride ...
Страница 15
... Gothic days , as legends tell , A shepherd - swain , a man of low degree ; Whose sires , perchance , in Fairy - land might dwell , Sicilian groves , or vales of Arcady ; But he , I ween , was of the north JAMES BEATTIE . 15.
... Gothic days , as legends tell , A shepherd - swain , a man of low degree ; Whose sires , perchance , in Fairy - land might dwell , Sicilian groves , or vales of Arcady ; But he , I ween , was of the north JAMES BEATTIE . 15.
Страница 22
... tell ? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The ...
... tell ? The wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The ...
Страница 30
... tell of all I felt and all I saw ; And as a hare , whom hounds and horns pursue , Pants to the place from whence at first she flew , I still had hopes , my long vexations past , Here to return - and die at home at last . Oh , bless'd ...
... tell of all I felt and all I saw ; And as a hare , whom hounds and horns pursue , Pants to the place from whence at first she flew , I still had hopes , my long vexations past , Here to return - and die at home at last . Oh , bless'd ...
Страница 41
... tell where rival kings command , And dubious title shakes the madded land , When statutes glean the refuse of the sword , How much more safe the vassal than the lord ; Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of power , And leaves the ...
... tell where rival kings command , And dubious title shakes the madded land , When statutes glean the refuse of the sword , How much more safe the vassal than the lord ; Low skulks the hind beneath the rage of power , And leaves the ...
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Често срещани думи и фрази
art thou auld lang syne beauty beneath bless'd bloom bosom bower Branksome Hall breast breath bright brow burst of joy calm charms cheek clouds dark dead dear death deep delight dread dream earth Elderslie ev'ry fair fame fancy fled flowers fond frae gaze gentle grave green happy harp hath hear heart Heaven hill hope hour John Gilpin JOSEPH ATKINSON Kilmeny land light living Lochiel lonely look Lord lyre Marmion mirth morn mountain murmur muse Nature's ne'er never night nymph o'er pass'd peace PIBROCH pleasure pow'r pride rapture rill rose round scene seem'd shade shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit star stream sweet tears thee thine thou art thought Twas vale voice wandering wave weary weep wild wind wings Yarrow youth
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Страница 166 - O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly, at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; 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 152 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ; Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Страница 179 - But oh, that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover ! A savage place ! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover...
Страница 32 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Страница 198 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, - alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low.
Страница 196 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Страница 33 - Yet he was kind, or if severe in aught, The love he bore to learning was in fault; The village all declared how much he knew, 'Twas certain he could write and cipher too; Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage, And e'en the story ran that he could gauge...
Страница 167 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him ! But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring, And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Страница 207 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Страница 155 - 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.