The Lyre: Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth CenturyTilt and Bogue, 1841 - Всего страниц: 344 |
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Стр. 5
... thing of mortal birth , Whose happy home is on our earth ? Does human blood with life embue Those wandering veins of heavenly blue , That stray along thy forehead fair , Lost ' mid a gleam of golden hair ? Oh ! can that light and airy ...
... thing of mortal birth , Whose happy home is on our earth ? Does human blood with life embue Those wandering veins of heavenly blue , That stray along thy forehead fair , Lost ' mid a gleam of golden hair ? Oh ! can that light and airy ...
Стр. 8
... things of earth ! Night is the time to watch , On ocean's dark expanse , To hail the Pleiades , or catch The full moon's earliest glance , That brings unto the homesick mind All we have loved and left behind . Night is the time for care ...
... things of earth ! Night is the time to watch , On ocean's dark expanse , To hail the Pleiades , or catch The full moon's earliest glance , That brings unto the homesick mind All we have loved and left behind . Night is the time for care ...
Стр. 18
... thing : the earth Trembled as she presaged some coming ill ; The voice of thunder spake ; and in the midst Of that proud city , in the midst of Rome , The ground was riven in twain ; and , on the spot Where human steps had but so lately ...
... thing : the earth Trembled as she presaged some coming ill ; The voice of thunder spake ; and in the midst Of that proud city , in the midst of Rome , The ground was riven in twain ; and , on the spot Where human steps had but so lately ...
Стр. 26
... things , were meant To speak by proxy . Your chronicles no more exist , For Knox , the revolutionist , Destroyed the work of every fist That scrawled black letter ; Well ! I'm a craniologist , And may do better . This skull - cap wore ...
... things , were meant To speak by proxy . Your chronicles no more exist , For Knox , the revolutionist , Destroyed the work of every fist That scrawled black letter ; Well ! I'm a craniologist , And may do better . This skull - cap wore ...
Стр. 28
... thing , And what the friars bade him bring They ne'er were balked of ; Matters not worth remembering , And seldom talked of . Enough ! why need I farther pore ? This corner holds at least a score , And yonder twice as many more Of ...
... thing , And what the friars bade him bring They ne'er were balked of ; Matters not worth remembering , And seldom talked of . Enough ! why need I farther pore ? This corner holds at least a score , And yonder twice as many more Of ...
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ALARIC beams beauty Behave yoursel beneath billows bird blessed blue bosom bower breast breath bright bright eyes brow calm charm cheek cloud cold dark dead death deep doth dream e'en earth EAST INDIAMAN fair fame feeling Fireside fled flowers gaze gentle gleam glory glow gone grave grief harp hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hope hour KIRKSTALL ABBEY land life's light lips lonely look LORD BYRON lute LYRE mirth morning mountain murmur N. P. WILLIS ne'er NELL GWYN never night o'er pale passion rose round Sappho shine shore SICILIAN VESPERS sigh silent skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou hast thou wert thought tones Twas Valentine's day voice wave weep wild wind wings young youth
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Стр. 195 - ... tread. The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood ? Alas ! they all are in their graves ; the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth...
Стр. 158 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power : In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror...
Стр. 166 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Стр. 60 - And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may, For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.
Стр. 195 - And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Стр. 159 - They fought — like brave men, long and well ; They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won ; Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun.
Стр. 104 - O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight— Where are those dreamers now? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade.
Стр. 163 - AND thou hast walked about, (how strange a story!) In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And Time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous.
Стр. 86 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Стр. 278 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...