Poetical selections, consisting of the most approved pieces of our best British poets, excellent specimens of fugitive poetry, and some original pieces by Cowper, Darwin, and others |
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Страница 16
Poetical selections. Would , Wellesley , would that he had died . Beneath thine eye and at thy side ! It would have lighten'd sorrow's load , Had thy applause on him bestow'd The fame he lov'd in thee ; And rear'd his gallant head beside ...
Poetical selections. Would , Wellesley , would that he had died . Beneath thine eye and at thy side ! It would have lighten'd sorrow's load , Had thy applause on him bestow'd The fame he lov'd in thee ; And rear'd his gallant head beside ...
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... , few , shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding sheet ; And every turf beneath their feet , Shall be a soldier's sepulchre ! CAMPBELL . OF Nelson and the North , Sing the. 18 POETICAL SELECTIONS .
... , few , shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding sheet ; And every turf beneath their feet , Shall be a soldier's sepulchre ! CAMPBELL . OF Nelson and the North , Sing the. 18 POETICAL SELECTIONS .
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... beneath the Western sea , Will end their hope of glory in the grave ! Perhaps upon this spot may virtue fall ; True love may here resign in pangs its breath ; The child's , the wife's , the parent's little all May sink for ever in the ...
... beneath the Western sea , Will end their hope of glory in the grave ! Perhaps upon this spot may virtue fall ; True love may here resign in pangs its breath ; The child's , the wife's , the parent's little all May sink for ever in the ...
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... and meagre Want is there , And the quick - darting eye of restless Fear ; While cold Oblivion , ' mid thy ruins laid , Folds his dank wing beneath the ivy shade .. Ye guardian Saints ! ye warrior sons of heaven ,. D.3 ...
... and meagre Want is there , And the quick - darting eye of restless Fear ; While cold Oblivion , ' mid thy ruins laid , Folds his dank wing beneath the ivy shade .. Ye guardian Saints ! ye warrior sons of heaven ,. D.3 ...
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... beneath the storms of Fate , Thy house is left unto thee desolate ; Though thy proud stones in cumb'rous ruin fall , And seas of sand o'ertop thy mould'ring wall ; Yet shall the Muse to Fancy's ardent view , Each shadowy trace of faded ...
... beneath the storms of Fate , Thy house is left unto thee desolate ; Though thy proud stones in cumb'rous ruin fall , And seas of sand o'ertop thy mould'ring wall ; Yet shall the Muse to Fancy's ardent view , Each shadowy trace of faded ...
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Poetical Selections, Consisting of the Most Approved Pieces of Our Best ... Poetical Selections Приказ није доступан - 2023 |
Poetical Selections, Consisting of the Most Approved Pieces of Our Best ... Poetical Selections Приказ није доступан - 2018 |
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ANN RADCLIFFE BATTLES OF TALAVERA beam behold beneath black crows blast blest bliss bloom Bolus bosom breast breath breeze bright brow charms cheerful clouds cold Colma coursers cried dæmon dark dead death deep dread drear drest E'en Erin go bragh ev'ry fade fair fame fancy fate fear fire flowers gale gloom grave green GRONGAR HILL Haman hear heart heaven hill hope hour Lady light lonely lord of war lov'd lyre maid mark'd moon morning mountain mourn muse night numbers o'er pale peace pensive PINDAR plain pow'r pride repose rill rise rose round scene seem'd shade shore sigh silent sleep smil'd smile soft song soothing soul sound spectre spring storm stream sweet tear tempest thee thine thou thro tomb trembling Twas Twizzle vale voice wave weep wild wind wood Zounds
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Страница 18 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave...
Страница 19 - Like leviathans afloat Lay their bulwarks on the brine; While the sign of battle flew On the lofty British line: It was ten of April morn by the chime: As they drifted on their path There was silence deep as death; And the boldest held his breath For a time. But the might of England flush'd To anticipate the scene; And her van the fleeter rush'd O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak!
Страница 169 - Await alike th' inevitable hour : — The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye proud, impute to these the fault, If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn, or animated bust, Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry soothe the dull cold ear of Death...
Страница 118 - I'll meet the raging of the skies, But not an angry father.' The boat has left a stormy land, A stormy sea before her, — When, oh ! too strong for human hand The tempest gather'd o'er her.
Страница 20 - Again ! again ! again ! And the havoc did not slack, Till a feeble cheer the Dane To our cheering sent us back; — Their shots along the deep slowly boom: Then ceased — and all is wail, As they strike the shattered sail, Or in conflagration pale Light the gloom.
Страница 16 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Страница 221 - He threw his blood-stain'd sword, in thunder, down ; And, with a withering look, The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe...
Страница 52 - Now sinks at last, or feebly mans the soul; While low delights, succeeding fast behind, In happier meanness occupy the mind : As in those domes, where Caesars once bore sway, Defaced by time and tottering in decay, There in the ruin, heedless of the dead, The shelter-seeking peasant builds his shed ; And, wondering man could want the larger pile, Exults, and owns his cottage with a smile.
Страница 48 - Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart, untravell'd, fondly turns to thee : Still to my brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
Страница 219 - Adieu !" At length, his transient respite past. His comrades, who before Had heard his voice in every blast, Could catch the sound no more ; For then, by toil subdued, he drank The stifling wave, and then he sank. No poet wept him : but the page Of narrative sincere, That tells his name, his worth, his age. Is wet with Anson's tear i And tears by bards or heroes shed, Alike immortalize the dead.