Selections from the British Poets, Том 2 |
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Страница 15
No ; let thy heaven - taught soul to Heaven aspire , To Fancy , Freedom ,
Harmony resign'd ; Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind . Canst thou
forego the pure ethereal soul , In each fine sense so exquisitely keen , On the dull
couch of ...
No ; let thy heaven - taught soul to Heaven aspire , To Fancy , Freedom ,
Harmony resign'd ; Ambition's grovelling crew for ever left behind . Canst thou
forego the pure ethereal soul , In each fine sense so exquisitely keen , On the dull
couch of ...
Страница 193
That thoughts of thee and thine on polish'd breasts Ancient of days ! august
Athena ! where , Where are thy men of might ? thy grand in soul ? Gore -
glimmering through the dream of things that were : First in the race that led to
Glory's goal ...
That thoughts of thee and thine on polish'd breasts Ancient of days ! august
Athena ! where , Where are thy men of might ? thy grand in soul ? Gore -
glimmering through the dream of things that were : First in the race that led to
Glory's goal ...
Страница 272
The little gift we send thee , boy , May sometimes teach thy soul to ponder , If
Indolence or siren Joy Should ever tempt that soul to wander . ' Twill tell thee that
the winged day Can ne'er be chain'd by man's endeavour ; That life and time
shall ...
The little gift we send thee , boy , May sometimes teach thy soul to ponder , If
Indolence or siren Joy Should ever tempt that soul to wander . ' Twill tell thee that
the winged day Can ne'er be chain'd by man's endeavour ; That life and time
shall ...
Страница 296
In Rome's great forum , who but hears him roll His moral thunders o'er the subject
soul ? And hence that calm delight the portrait gives : We gaze on every feature
till it lives ! Still the fond lover sees the absent maid , And the lost friend still ...
In Rome's great forum , who but hears him roll His moral thunders o'er the subject
soul ? And hence that calm delight the portrait gives : We gaze on every feature
till it lives ! Still the fond lover sees the absent maid , And the lost friend still ...
Страница 336
Unfading Hope ! when life's last embers burn , When soul to soul , and dust to
dust return ! Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hourOh ! then thy kingdom
comes , immortal Power !, What though each spark of earthborn rapture fly The ...
Unfading Hope ! when life's last embers burn , When soul to soul , and dust to
dust return ! Heaven to thy charge resigns the awful hourOh ! then thy kingdom
comes , immortal Power !, What though each spark of earthborn rapture fly The ...
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Чести термини и фразе
arms beauty beneath bloom breast breath bright brings charms child close clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight dread dream earth face fair fall fear feel field fire flowers gentle give gone grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill hope hour land leaves light living lonely look Lord meet mind morn mountain Nature ne'er never night o'er once past peace pleasure pride rest rise rose round scene seen shade shore side sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song soon sorrow soul sound spirit spread spring star stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought Till truth turn vale voice wandering wave weep wild wind wings woods young youth
Популарни одломци
Страница 154 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone : Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
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 311 - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy. "The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Страница 153 - What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Страница 152 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee!
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 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 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 110 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa'?
Страница 318 - Oh, listen ! for the vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt Among Arabian sands : —A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird. Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.