The Poetical Works, Volumen1Henry Colburn, Publisher, Great Marlborough Street, 1846 - 264 páginas |
Dentro del libro
Resultados 1-5 de 12
Página 5
... dust that now entwine These prompting pages , Some future reader , as a jest or line His thought engages , Feeling old memories from their grave arise , May thus , in pensive mood , perchance soliloquise : " I knew the bardling ; ' twas ...
... dust that now entwine These prompting pages , Some future reader , as a jest or line His thought engages , Feeling old memories from their grave arise , May thus , in pensive mood , perchance soliloquise : " I knew the bardling ; ' twas ...
Página 14
... dust been humbled , While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled . Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head , When the great Persian conqueror , Cambyses , March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread , O'erthrew Osiris ...
... dust been humbled , While not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled . Didst thou not hear the pother o'er thy head , When the great Persian conqueror , Cambyses , March'd armies o'er thy tomb with thundering tread , O'erthrew Osiris ...
Página 40
... dust In a moment his tenderest objects of trust ; Birds and beasts fell around him ; where'er Adam walk'd , Before him , in fancy , the murderer stalk'd ; More dread to the heart when unseen by the eye , ' Twas vain from the phantom to ...
... dust In a moment his tenderest objects of trust ; Birds and beasts fell around him ; where'er Adam walk'd , Before him , in fancy , the murderer stalk'd ; More dread to the heart when unseen by the eye , ' Twas vain from the phantom to ...
Página 64
... dust - these eyes are closed , And thou art singing to thy lute Some stanza by thy sire composed , To friends around thou mayst impart A thought of him who wrote the lays , And from the grave my form shall start , Embodied forth to ...
... dust - these eyes are closed , And thou art singing to thy lute Some stanza by thy sire composed , To friends around thou mayst impart A thought of him who wrote the lays , And from the grave my form shall start , Embodied forth to ...
Página 67
... dust ! Yet the blaze sublime of thy virtue's prime , Still gilds my tears and a balm supplies , As the matin ray of the god of day Brightens the dew which at last it dries : Yes , Fanny ! I cannot regret thy clay , When I think where ...
... dust ! Yet the blaze sublime of thy virtue's prime , Still gilds my tears and a balm supplies , As the matin ray of the god of day Brightens the dew which at last it dries : Yes , Fanny ! I cannot regret thy clay , When I think where ...
Términos y frases comunes
Adam and Eve Alchemist Apollo Ashes to ashes bard beauty Behold beneath BINSTEAD birds birth bless bliss bloom bosom bowers breath bright charms Chaucer cheerfulness CHOLERA choral cried Cuckoo dark death deep delight divine dost dread dust e'en earth so surpassingly Empyrean eyes Fanny fear feel flowers gaze gibbet gladness gloom glory Gorgon grace grave Greece groan gush Hail to thee hand Hark harp and hymn hath hear heart heaven on earth HENRY COLBURN holy hope hymn Thy downward king life's light lips live Lovely or rare lyre man's mind mirth moral muse's Nature's night o'er Osiris perchance Poets shuddering shut Sicilian Arethusa sight silent sing skies smiles song soul spirit Spring stamp'd surpassingly fair sweet tears thine thou wert thou'rt dim thought thrill Thy downward course tomb trees Twas voice wave winds yearning
Pasajes populares
Página 12 - Tell us, for doubtless thou canst recollect, To whom should we assign the Sphinx's fame ? Was Cheops or Cephrenes architect Of either pyramid that bears his name ? Is Pompey's pillar really a misnomer ? Had Thebes a hundred gates, as sung by Homer...
Página 13 - Or doffed thine own to let Queen Dido pass, Or held, by Solomon's own invitation, A torch at the great temple's dedication. I need not ask thee if that hand, when...
Página 14 - What was thy name and station, age and race ? Statue of flesh, immortal of the dead ! • Imperishable type of evanescence, Posthumous man, who quitt'st thy narrow bed, And standest undecayed within our presence : Thou wilt hear nothing till the judgment morning, When the great trump shall thrill thee with its warning.
Página 14 - O'erthrew Osiris, Orus, Apis, Isis, And shook the pyramids with fear and wonder When the gigantic Memnon fell asunder...
Página 8 - Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer.
Página 13 - Might tell us what those sightless orbs have seen, How the world looked when it was fresh and young, And the great Deluge still had left it green — Or was it then so old, that History's pages Contained no record of its early ages ? Still silent, incommunicative elf ? Art sworn to secrecy...
Página 63 - DAUGHTER dear, my darling child, Prop of my mortal pilgrimage, Thou who hast care and pain beguiled, And wreathed with Spring my wintry age, — Through thee a second prospect opes Of life, when but to live is glee, And jocund joys, and youthful hopes, Come thronging to my heart through thee. Backward thou lead'st me to the bowers Where love and youth their transports gave ; While forward still thou strewest flowers, And bidst me live beyond the grave ; For still my blood in thee shall flow, Perhaps...
Página 11 - MUMMY IN BELZONI'S EXHIBITION. And thou hast walked about (how strange a story .') In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous...
Página 14 - Since first thy form was in this box extended, We have, above ground, seen some strange mutations ; The Roman empire has begun and ended, New worlds have risen — we have lost old nations, And countless kings have into dust been humbled, Whilst not a fragment of thy flesh has crumbled.
Página 109 - Might suddenly redeem from future sin ? Oh ! if there be, how solemn is the question, Why are they shut ? In foreign climes mechanics leave their tasks To breathe a passing prayer in their Cathedrals : There they have week-day shrines, and no one asks, When he would kneel to them, and count his beadrolls, Why are they shut? Seeing them enter sad and disconcerted, To quit those cheering fanes with looks of gladness — How often have my thoughts to ours reverted ! How oft have I exclaimed in tones...