The Poets of the Nineteenth CenturyRobert Aris Willmott, Evert Augustus Duyckinck Harper & brothers, 1858 - 616 страница |
Из књиге
Резултати 1-5 од 6
Страница 390
... DEN BOSCH ( without ) . What ho ! Van Artevelde ! ARTEVELDE . Who calls ? " Tis I. VAN DEN BOSCH ( entering ) . Thou art an early riser , like myself ; Or is it that thou hast not been to bed ? ARTEVELDE . What are thy tidings ? VAN DEN ...
... DEN BOSCH ( without ) . What ho ! Van Artevelde ! ARTEVELDE . Who calls ? " Tis I. VAN DEN BOSCH ( entering ) . Thou art an early riser , like myself ; Or is it that thou hast not been to bed ? ARTEVELDE . What are thy tidings ? VAN DEN ...
Страница 391
Robert Aris Willmott, Evert Augustus Duyckinck. VAN DEN BOSCH . In God's name what ? ARTEVELDE . A horseman's tramp upon the road from Bruges . VAN DEN BOSCH . Why , then , be certain ' tis a flag of truce ! If once he reach the city we ...
Robert Aris Willmott, Evert Augustus Duyckinck. VAN DEN BOSCH . In God's name what ? ARTEVELDE . A horseman's tramp upon the road from Bruges . VAN DEN BOSCH . Why , then , be certain ' tis a flag of truce ! If once he reach the city we ...
Страница 392
Robert Aris Willmott, Evert Augustus Duyckinck. VAN DEN BOSCH . Then thou art mad , [ Is going . And I must take this matter on myself . ARTEVELDE . Hold , Van den Bosch ; I say this shall not be . I must be madder than I think I am Ere.
Robert Aris Willmott, Evert Augustus Duyckinck. VAN DEN BOSCH . Then thou art mad , [ Is going . And I must take this matter on myself . ARTEVELDE . Hold , Van den Bosch ; I say this shall not be . I must be madder than I think I am Ere.
Страница 393
... DEN BOSCH . Thou wilt ? ARTEVELDE . I will . VAN DEN BOSCH . Oh , Lord ! to hear him speak , What a most mighty emperor of puppets Is this that I have brought upon the board ! But how if he that made it should unmake ? ARTEVELDE IN ...
... DEN BOSCH . Thou wilt ? ARTEVELDE . I will . VAN DEN BOSCH . Oh , Lord ! to hear him speak , What a most mighty emperor of puppets Is this that I have brought upon the board ! But how if he that made it should unmake ? ARTEVELDE IN ...
Страница 394
... den Bosch ; Part of the curious clock - work of this world , We scold , and squeak , and crack each other's crowns ; And if by twitches moved from wires we see not , I were to toss thee from this steeple's top , I should be but the ...
... den Bosch ; Part of the curious clock - work of this world , We scold , and squeak , and crack each other's crowns ; And if by twitches moved from wires we see not , I were to toss thee from this steeple's top , I should be but the ...
Садржај
14 | |
17 | |
24 | |
31 | |
41 | |
55 | |
62 | |
66 | |
221 | |
229 | |
236 | |
238 | |
249 | |
261 | |
275 | |
288 | |
73 | |
88 | |
97 | |
98 | |
165 | |
172 | |
176 | |
181 | |
187 | |
202 | |
210 | |
295 | |
304 | |
311 | |
318 | |
339 | |
375 | |
423 | |
449 | |
550 | |
601 | |
Друга издања - Прикажи све
Чести термини и фразе
BEACHY HEAD beam beauty bend beneath bosom Bouillabaisse bowers breast breath bright brow charms cheek cloud cold dark dead dear deep delight DEN BOSCH Ditto dread dream earth EPICURUS F. O. C. Darley fair fear FLORIO flowers friends gaze gentle gleam glory grave green grey hand hath heard heart heaven hill hour James Godwin Kilmeny knew LEWESDON HILL light living lonely look lov'd MARY TIGHE morning mortal decay mother murmurs never night o'er ocean old oaken bucket pride PRISONER OF CHILLON rocks rose round scene seem'd shade shadows shines shore sigh sight silent Sir Bedivere sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stood stout spurs stream summer sweet tears thee thine thou art thought tree trembling Twas vale voice wandering wave wild wind wings wood youth
Популарни одломци
Страница 138 - Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hillside; and now 'tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: — Do I wake or sleep?
Страница 486 - My grandmamma has said — Poor old lady, she is dead Long ago — That he had a Roman nose, And his cheek was like a rose In the snow.
Страница 175 - O, woman ! in our hours of ease, \ Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made ; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou...
Страница 137 - 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...
Страница 155 - THREE years she grew in sun and shower; Then Nature said, ( A lovelier flower On earth was never sown: This child I to myself will take; She shall be mine, and I will make A lady of my own. ' Myself will to my darling be Both law and impulse : and with me The girl, in rock and plain In earth and heaven, in glade and bower Shall feel an overseeing power To kindle or restrain.
Страница 446 - More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day. For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
Страница 221 - Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
Страница 20 - My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned, and rulers of the earth ; But higher far my proud pretensions rise,— The son of parents pass'd into the skies.
Страница 480 - In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral glaciers shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior! "Try not the Pass!
Страница 445 - Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves And barren chasms, and all to left and right The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — And on a sudden, lo ! the level lake, And the long glories of the winter moon.