Palgrave's Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics ...Macmillan, 1903 |
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... seem to stand between the poets and their reader . Perhaps he would be thought to quibble if he met the charge with a denial of the fact , and urged that , in literal truth , he comes in these pages after the poets and not before them ...
... seem to stand between the poets and their reader . Perhaps he would be thought to quibble if he met the charge with a denial of the fact , and urged that , in literal truth , he comes in these pages after the poets and not before them ...
Страница 28
... seem'd bursting from his head . Thy numbers , Jealousy , to nought were fix'd : Sad proof of thy distressful state ! And now it courted Love , now raving call'd on Hate . Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd ; With eyes up ...
... seem'd bursting from his head . Thy numbers , Jealousy , to nought were fix'd : Sad proof of thy distressful state ! And now it courted Love , now raving call'd on Hate . Of differing themes the veering song was mix'd ; With eyes up ...
Страница 49
... A momentary bliss bestow , As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe , And , redolent of joy and youth , To breathe a second spring . D 5 10 10 15 20 Say , Father Thames , for thou hast seen Full BOOK THIRD 49.
... A momentary bliss bestow , As waving fresh their gladsome wing My weary soul they seem to soothe , And , redolent of joy and youth , To breathe a second spring . D 5 10 10 15 20 Say , Father Thames , for thou hast seen Full BOOK THIRD 49.
Страница 55
... seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair . But the sea - fowl is gone to her nest , The beast is laid down in his lair ; Even here is a season of rest , And I to my cabin repair . There's mercy ...
... seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair . But the sea - fowl is gone to her nest , The beast is laid down in his lair ; Even here is a season of rest , And I to my cabin repair . There's mercy ...
Страница 56
... seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm , whate'er the theme , My Mary ! Thy silver locks , once auburn bright , 25 Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light , My Mary ! For could I view nor ...
... seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm , whate'er the theme , My Mary ! Thy silver locks , once auburn bright , 25 Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light , My Mary ! For could I view nor ...
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Чести термини и фразе
Aeneid Aeolian Aeschylus ancient baith ballad Bard beauty bonnie braes Burns called charm Collins Cowper dear death Duncan Eclogue Elegy English epithet eyes F. T. Palgrave Faerie Queen fair favourite flowers Georgics Golden Treasury Gray Gray's Greek green Hales heart Heaven Horace Il Penseroso Jean John Anderson King L'Allegro Latin leal lines living lourche Lucretius LXXXIX Lycidas Lycidas G. T. lyre lyric lyric poetry Mary melancholy metre Michael Macmillan Milton mind Muse night numbers o'er Paradise Lost Penseroso Pindar pleasure poem poetic poetry poets Pope Queen reign rhyme Scottish sense sewed shade Shakespeare simplicity sing sleep smile song Sophocles sorrow soul sound Spenser Spring stanza stream sweet tabby tear thee There's thou art thought thro Tovey Twas verb verse Virgil warbled weel Welsh wind wings word Wordsworth Yarrow
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Страница 41 - uuhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 95 Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,— Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn ; 100
Страница 25 - CLXXV. When lovely woman stoops ,to folly And finds too late that men betray,— What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, 5 To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover And wring his bosom,
Страница 126 - While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin . . . Oft listening how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn." 20. lowly bed. "This probably refers to the humble couch on which they have spent the night; but it is meant to suggest the grave as well
Страница 41 - The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 70 Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Страница 17 - CLXV. LOSS OF THE ROYAL GEORGE Toll for the Brave ! The brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore ! A land-breeze shook the shrouds And she was overset; 10 Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave ! His last sea-fight is fought, 15
Страница 18 - His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. 20 His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen. When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Once dreaded by our
Страница 41 - Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,— Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn ; 100
Страница 45 - How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, 10 As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life 15 Was my sweet Highland Mary. Our parting was fu
Страница 38 - Thy dewy fingers draw While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light; While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves ; 45 Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air Affrights thy shrinking train And rudely rends thy robes
Страница 44 - 1 will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only Luve ! And fare thee weel awhile ! And I will come again, my Luve, 15 Tho' it were ten thousand mile. HIGHLAND MARY Ye banks and braes and streams around