The British anthology; or, Poetical library, Томови 7-8 |
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Страница 17
... shades Had left the dungeon of eternal night , Till black with thunder all the South descends . Scarce in a showerless day the heavens indulge Our melting clime ; except the baleful East Withers the tender Spring , and sourly checks The ...
... shades Had left the dungeon of eternal night , Till black with thunder all the South descends . Scarce in a showerless day the heavens indulge Our melting clime ; except the baleful East Withers the tender Spring , and sourly checks The ...
Страница 26
... shade ? No worthy man , by fortune's random blows , Or by a heart too generous and humane , Constrain❜d to leave his happy natal seat , And sigh for wants more bitter than his own ? There are , while human miseries abound , A thousand ...
... shade ? No worthy man , by fortune's random blows , Or by a heart too generous and humane , Constrain❜d to leave his happy natal seat , And sigh for wants more bitter than his own ? There are , while human miseries abound , A thousand ...
Страница 31
... shade the golden orange glows : Spontaneous here the turgid melon yields A generous pulp : the cocoa swells on high With milky riches ; and in horrid mail The crisp ananas 3 wraps its poignant sweets . Earth's vaunted progeny ; in ruder ...
... shade the golden orange glows : Spontaneous here the turgid melon yields A generous pulp : the cocoa swells on high With milky riches ; and in horrid mail The crisp ananas 3 wraps its poignant sweets . Earth's vaunted progeny ; in ruder ...
Страница 32
... shades Enwrap these infant floods ! Through every nerve A sacred horror thrills , a pleasing fear ; Glides o'er my frame . The forest deepens round And more gigantic still , the impending trees Stretch their extravagant arms athwart the ...
... shades Enwrap these infant floods ! Through every nerve A sacred horror thrills , a pleasing fear ; Glides o'er my frame . The forest deepens round And more gigantic still , the impending trees Stretch their extravagant arms athwart the ...
Страница 51
... shades descend , and midnight o'er the world Expands her sable wings . Great Nature droops Through all her works . Now happy he whose toil Has o'er his languid powerless limbs diffused A pleasing lassitude : he not in vain Invokes the ...
... shades descend , and midnight o'er the world Expands her sable wings . Great Nature droops Through all her works . Now happy he whose toil Has o'er his languid powerless limbs diffused A pleasing lassitude : he not in vain Invokes the ...
Чести термини и фразе
Amang Aspasio auld auld lang syne bard beneath birks of Aberfeldy blast blate blithe blood bloom bonnie bosom braes brave breast breath BRIG charms chyle Cutty-sark dear dearie death deil delight ev'n fair fame fancy Farewell fate fear flowers frae Gilpin grace green groves Halloween hear heart Heaven hope hour ilka JOHN GILPIN JOHN SHARPE labour lass lassie life's lo'es mair Mary maun mind mony morning mourn Muse Nature's ne'er never night numbers o'er owre pain peace pleasure poor pride rage roar round scenes seem'd shade shine sing skies smile song soon soul spring stream sugh sweet TAM O'SHANTER taste tears tender thee There's thine thou toil TUNE-The Twas wander waste wave weary weel Whyles wild winds winter wretch young Jessie youth
Популарни одломци
Страница 8 - Then kneeling down to Heaven's Eternal King, The saint, the father, and the husband prays; Hope 'springs exulting on triumphant wing,' That thus they all shall meet in future days, There ever bask in uncreated rays, No more to sigh or shed the bitter tear, Together hymning their Creator's praise, In such society, yet still more dear, While circling Time moves round in an eternal sphere.
Страница 7 - Like streamer long and gay, Till loop and button failing both, At last it flew away. Then might all people well discern The bottles he had slung, A bottle swinging at each side As hath been said or sung. The dogs did bark, the children screamed, Up flew the windows all, And every soul cried out, Well done ! As loud as he could bawl.
Страница 12 - I heard the bell tolled on thy burial day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And, turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such ? It was. Where thou art gone Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown : May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, The parting word shall pass my lips no more...
Страница 12 - Dupe of to-morrow even from a child. Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, Till, all my stock of infant sorrow spent, I learned at last submission to my lot ; But, though I less deplored thee, ne'er forgot. Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, Children not thine have trod my nursery floor ; And where the gardener Robin, day by day, Drew me to school along the public way, Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet capped, Tis now become a history little...
Страница 33 - I'm truly sorry man's dominion. Has broken nature's social union, An' justifies that ill opinion, Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-born companion, An...
Страница 33 - How fleet is a glance of the mind! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Страница 9 - Inclined to tarry there ; For why ? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.
Страница 30 - Thy snawie bosom sun-ward spread, Thou lifts thy unassuming head In humble guise; But now the share uptears thy bed, And low thou lies! Such is the fate of artless maid, Sweet floweret of the rural shade ! By love's simplicity betray'd, And guileless trust, Till she, like thee, all soil'd, is laid Low i
Страница 29 - His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. — Weigh the vessel up Once dreaded by our foes! And mingle with our cup The tears that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, And she may float again Full charged with England's thunder, And plough the distant main: But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plough the wave no more.
Страница 30 - Unskilful he to note the card Of prudent lore, Till billows rage, and gales blow hard, And whelm him o'er! Such fate to suffering worth is...