Sonnets, and Other Poems,T. Cadell, jun. and W. Davies, Strand, and J. Mawman, Poultry, London; and R. Cruttwell, Bath., 1801 - 180 страница |
Чести термини и фразе
amid amidst ascend battle beat beauteous beautiful behold BELISARIUS beneath blast breast Castle clarionets cold craggy Dæmon dark dark'ning deep delight didst DONHEAD dost dread E'en Egypt Fancy flash glimm'ring gloom Gothick green grey guarded Mount Hacon Hark hast thou hath hear heard heart Heav'n Hispania huge life's lift light lone look LORD loud lov'd Lycidas MICHAEL's MOUNT MONODY mountain murmuring muse musick night NILE o'er Odin pale peace PHILOCTETES plain pray'r quæ Radnorshire roar rocks roll sable sails scatter'd scene Sesac shade shore shouts silent slain smile solemn solitude song sorrow sounds spirit storm stream sublime sunshine surge sweep sweet swell tall ship Tarshish tear tender thee thine Thor tide Tinian tow'r trance tranquil Typhon unda vale WARDOUR CASTLE WARTON wave Weird Sisters WESTMINSTER SCHOOL whilst wide wild wind WODEN woods
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Страница 164 - They have made all thy ship boards of fir trees of Senir : they have taken cedars from Lebanon to make masts for thee. Of the oaks of Bashan have they made thine oars ; the company of the Ashurites have made thy benches of ivory, brought out of the isles of Chittim.
Страница 164 - Thy borders are in the midst of the seas, thy builders have perfected thy beauty. "They have made all thy ship boards of fir trees of Senir : they have taken cedars from Lebanon to make masts for thee. Of the oaks of Bashan have they made thine oars ; the company of the Ashurites have made thy benches of ivory, brought out of the isles of Chittim.
Страница 163 - The ships of Tarshish did sing of thee in thy market : and thou wast replenished, and made very glorious in the midst of the seas.
Страница 164 - O thou that art situate at the entry of the sea, which art a merchant of the people for many isles, thus saith the Lord GOD; 0 Tyrus, thou hast said, I am of perfect beauty.
Страница 108 - WINTER EVENING AT HOME. FAIR MOON, that at the chilly day's decline Of sharp December through my cottage pane Dost lovely look, smiling, though in thy wane ! In thought, to scenes, serene and still as thine, Wanders my heart, whilst I by turns survey Thee slowly wheeling on thy evening way ; And this my fire, whose dim, unequal light, Just glimmering, bids each shadowy image fall Sombrous and strange upon the darkening wall, Ere the clear tapers chase the deepening night ! Yet...
Страница 102 - Tis pleasant and yet fearful to look down Upon the river roaring, and far off To see it stretch in peace, and mark the rocks One after one, in solemn majesty Unfolding their wild reaches ; here with wood...
Страница 139 - Sun from the red horizon looks, And wakes the tuneless birds, the stagnant brooks, And sleeping lakes ! So on my mind's cold night The ray of Fancy shone, and gave delight And hope, past utterance- • • • Thy cheering voice, O WARTON...
Страница 108 - Has deck'd with trees and shrubs the slopes around, And whilst the leaves by dying airs are fann'd, Sweet to my spirit comes the farewell sound, That seems to say , "Forget the transient tear Thy pale youth shed , — repose and peace are here.
Страница 107 - COMB, lovely Evening, with thy smile of peace Visit my humble dwelling, welcomed in, Not with loud shouts, and the throng'd city's din, But with such sounds as bid all tumult cease Of the sick heart ; the grasshopper's faint pipe Beneath the blades of dewy grass unripe. The bleat of the lone lamb, the carol rude Heard indistinctly from the village green, The bird's last twitter from the hedge-row scene, Where, just before, the scatter'd crumbs I strew'd, To pay him for his farewell song, — all...
Страница 23 - FOUNTAIN, that sparkiest through the shady place, Making a soft sad murmur o'er the stones That strew thy lucid way ! Oh, if some guest Should haply wander near, with slow disease Smitten, may thy cold springs the rose of health Bring back, and the quick lustre to his eye ! The ancient oaks that on thy margin wave, The song of birds, and through the rocky cave The clear stream gushing, their according sounds Should mingle, and like some strange music steal Sadly, yet soothing, o'er his aching breast....