A New Library of Poetry and Song, Том 2William Cullen Bryant J. B. Ford, 1877 - 934 страница |
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Страница 454
... fears , He shall not blush to leave a recreant's name , And children , like himself , inured to shame . But we will ... fear , and deeming light the cost Of life itself in glorious battle lost . Leave not our sires to stem the unequal ...
... fears , He shall not blush to leave a recreant's name , And children , like himself , inured to shame . But we will ... fear , and deeming light the cost Of life itself in glorious battle lost . Leave not our sires to stem the unequal ...
Страница 460
... fear The battle's tide was poured ; Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear , Vanished the mountain sword . As Bracklinn's chasm , so black and steep , Receives her roaring linn , As the dark caverns of the deep Suck the wild whirlpool in ...
... fear The battle's tide was poured ; Vanished the Saxon's struggling spear , Vanished the mountain sword . As Bracklinn's chasm , so black and steep , Receives her roaring linn , As the dark caverns of the deep Suck the wild whirlpool in ...
Страница 462
... fear Lancer and guard and cuirassier , Horsemen and foot , -a mingled host , Their leaders fallen , their standards lost . - SIR WALTER SCOTT . THE CHARGE AT WATERLOO . ON came the whirlwind , like the last But fiercest sweep of tempest ...
... fear Lancer and guard and cuirassier , Horsemen and foot , -a mingled host , Their leaders fallen , their standards lost . - SIR WALTER SCOTT . THE CHARGE AT WATERLOO . ON came the whirlwind , like the last But fiercest sweep of tempest ...
Страница 463
... fear or pause , - To the very cannon's jaws ! Gallant Nolan , brave as Roland At the field of Roncesvalles , Dashes down the fatal valley , Dashes on the bolt of death , Shouting with his latest breath , 66 ' Charge , then , gallants ...
... fear or pause , - To the very cannon's jaws ! Gallant Nolan , brave as Roland At the field of Roncesvalles , Dashes down the fatal valley , Dashes on the bolt of death , Shouting with his latest breath , 66 ' Charge , then , gallants ...
Страница 468
... FEAR not , O little flock ! the foe Who madly seeks your overthrow , Dread not his rage and power ; What though your courage sometimes faints ? His seeming triumph o'er God's saints Lasts but a little hour . Be of good cheer ; your ...
... FEAR not , O little flock ! the foe Who madly seeks your overthrow , Dread not his rage and power ; What though your courage sometimes faints ? His seeming triumph o'er God's saints Lasts but a little hour . Be of good cheer ; your ...
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arms beauty bells beneath blessed blood blow blue brave breast breath bright cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fall fear feel fell field fire flowers give gold grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hour Italy JOHN king land leaves light live look Lord mind morning never night o'er once pass peace poor rest rise rock rolled rose round seemed seen shore side sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit stand stars stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand Till true turned voice wave wild wind wings wonder young
Популарни одломци
Страница 626 - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Страница 815 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Страница 556 - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
Страница 783 - Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water everywhere Nor any drop to drink.
Страница 709 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the sweet-brier, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine...
Страница 461 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet — But hark!
Страница 818 - Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent, and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
Страница 723 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Страница 709 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek : Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe...
Страница 657 - Hear the tolling of the bells Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling...