The Poetical MelangeG. A. Douglas, 1828 |
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Resultados 1-5 de 87
Página xii
... sound sad in the gale ? 247 O leave the lily on its stem , 134 O most delightful hour by man , 55 O stranger ! let no ill - timed tear , ............. 215 O'tis not while the fairy breeze fans the green ocean , 132 O think , that while ...
... sound sad in the gale ? 247 O leave the lily on its stem , 134 O most delightful hour by man , 55 O stranger ! let no ill - timed tear , ............. 215 O'tis not while the fairy breeze fans the green ocean , 132 O think , that while ...
Página 6
... sound of the evening gun Came onward from the shore ; But the boy still gazed on the west -- like one Who could hear that sound no more . And death , like a sleep on his young heart fell , ' Mid the thoughts of the home he had loved so ...
... sound of the evening gun Came onward from the shore ; But the boy still gazed on the west -- like one Who could hear that sound no more . And death , like a sleep on his young heart fell , ' Mid the thoughts of the home he had loved so ...
Página 14
... sounds ! Hark ! from the blackened cymbal that dead tone- It awes the very rabble multitude , They follow silently , their earnest brows Lifted in solemn thought . ' Tis not the pomp And pageantry of death that with such force Arrests ...
... sounds ! Hark ! from the blackened cymbal that dead tone- It awes the very rabble multitude , They follow silently , their earnest brows Lifted in solemn thought . ' Tis not the pomp And pageantry of death that with such force Arrests ...
Página 63
... sound will come , and when ' tis past , I shall awake in glory ! O dear Redeemer ! give me grace To fit me for that happy place ! Thou , when the vault shall claim And God recall my spirit , my dust , Eternal love will be my trust ...
... sound will come , and when ' tis past , I shall awake in glory ! O dear Redeemer ! give me grace To fit me for that happy place ! Thou , when the vault shall claim And God recall my spirit , my dust , Eternal love will be my trust ...
Página 64
... sound which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song . Thou art gone to the grave ! but ' twere vain to deplore thee , When God was thy ransom , thy guardian , and guide ; He gave thee , he took thee , and he will restore thee , And death ...
... sound which thou heard'st was the seraphim's song . Thou art gone to the grave ! but ' twere vain to deplore thee , When God was thy ransom , thy guardian , and guide ; He gave thee , he took thee , and he will restore thee , And death ...
Contenido
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125 | |
131 | |
132 | |
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143 | |
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181 | |
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Términos y frases comunes
Anon beam beauty beneath blessed blest bliss bloom bosom bower breast breath bright brow Byron calm charm cheek child clouds cold Cumnor dark dead dear death deep doom dream dust earth eternal fade fair Farewell father fear feel fled flowers frae gazed glory glowing gone grave grief harp hast hath heart heaven Helvellyn hope hour John Malcolm Kilmeny land life's light lisp live lonely look LORD BYRON Mariamne MINSTREL BOY morning mortal mother mountain mourn ne'er never night o'er peace perished band praise prayer rapture rest rose round Samian wine scene seraph shade shed shining book shore sigh silent skies sleep slumber smile song sorrow soul spirit star sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought tomb trembling Twas twill vile bands voice wave ween weep wept wild winds wing youth
Pasajes populares
Página 131 - ALL thoughts,' all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve...
Página 24 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we call'd the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Página 85 - The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse : Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires'
Página 222 - Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought, Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret joy: Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing — there As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven.
Página 85 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Página 37 - Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.
Página 166 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.
Página 37 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Página 62 - If aught should tempt my soul to stray From heavenly wisdom's narrow way ; To fly the good I would pursue, Or do the sin I would not do ; Still He, who felt temptation's power, Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.
Página 22 - THAT those lips had language ! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same, that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away...