The Lyre: Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth CenturyTilt and Bogue, 1841 - Всего страниц: 344 |
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Стр. 6
... hear thee speak , And feel all natural griefs beguiled By thee , their fond , their duteous child . What joy must in their souls have stirred When thy first broken words were heard , Words , that , inspired by Heaven , expressed The ...
... hear thee speak , And feel all natural griefs beguiled By thee , their fond , their duteous child . What joy must in their souls have stirred When thy first broken words were heard , Words , that , inspired by Heaven , expressed The ...
Стр. 11
... hear thy sweet and touching voice , in every wind that grieves , As it whirls from the abandon'd oak , its wither'd autumn leaves ; In the gloom of the wild forest , in the stillness of the sea , I shall think , my Scottish lassie ! I ...
... hear thy sweet and touching voice , in every wind that grieves , As it whirls from the abandon'd oak , its wither'd autumn leaves ; In the gloom of the wild forest , in the stillness of the sea , I shall think , my Scottish lassie ! I ...
Стр. 20
... hear sweet music . MERCHANT OF VENICE . OH ! joyously , triumphantly , sweet sounds ! ye swell and float , A breath of hope , of youth , of spring , is poured on every note ; And yet my full o'erburthened heart grows troubled by your ...
... hear sweet music . MERCHANT OF VENICE . OH ! joyously , triumphantly , sweet sounds ! ye swell and float , A breath of hope , of youth , of spring , is poured on every note ; And yet my full o'erburthened heart grows troubled by your ...
Стр. 24
... high waves the feather , That dances and plays On his cap , where the buckle And rosary blaze . The maid from her lattice Looks down on the lake , To see the foam sparkle , The bright billow break , And to hear in his boat , Where he ...
... high waves the feather , That dances and plays On his cap , where the buckle And rosary blaze . The maid from her lattice Looks down on the lake , To see the foam sparkle , The bright billow break , And to hear in his boat , Where he ...
Стр. 25
Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth Century Lyre. And to hear in his boat , Where he shines like a star , Her lover so tenderly Touch his guitar . She opens her lattice , And sits in the glow Of the moonlight and starlight , A statue of ...
Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth Century Lyre. And to hear in his boat , Where he shines like a star , Her lover so tenderly Touch his guitar . She opens her lattice , And sits in the glow Of the moonlight and starlight , A statue of ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
ALARIC beam beauty Behave yoursel beneath billow bird blessed bloom blue bosom bower breast breath bright bright eyes brow calm cheek cloud cold dark dead dear death deep dream e'en earth EAST INDIAMAN faded fair fame feel fled flowers gaze gentle gleam glory glow gone grave green grief hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hope hour land lassie leaves life's light lips lonely look LORD BYRON lute LYRE moon morning mountain N. P. WILLIS ne'er NELL GWYN never night o'er pale rest Rhine rose round Sappho shade shine shore SICILIAN VESPERS sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream summer sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thou hast thou wert thought Twas Valentine's day voice wave weep wild wind wings young youth
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Стр. 214 - And the angel which I saw stand upon the sea and upon the earth lifted up his hand to heaven. And sware by him that liveth for ever and ever, who created heaven, and the things that therein are, and the earth, and the things that therein are, and the sea, and the things which are therein, that there should be time no longer...
Стр. 164 - 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. 58 - 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. 193 - 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. 257 - Guard it ! — God will prosper thee ! In the dark and trying hour, In the breaking forth of power, In the rush of steeds and men, His right hand will shield thee then. " Take thy banner ! But, when night Closes round the ghastly fight, If the vanquished warrior bow, Spare him ! — By our holy vow, By our prayers and many tears, By the mercy that endears, Spare him ! — he our love hath shared ! Spare him ! — as thou wouldst be spared...
Стр. 84 - 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. 59 - was passed from man to man. But out spake gentle Henry, " No Frenchman is my foe: Down, down with every foreigner, but let your brethren go.
Стр. 276 - 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...
Стр. 158 - Thy sunken eye's unearthly light To him is welcome as the sight Of sky and stars to prisoned men; Thy grasp is welcome as the hand Of brother in a foreign land; Thy summons welcome as the cry That told the Indian isles were nigh To the world-seeking Genoese, When the land-wind, from woods of palm, And orange-groves, and fields of balm, Blew o'er the Haytian seas.
Стр. 103 - midst Italian flowers — The last of that bright band. And parted thus they rest who played Beneath the same green tree ; Whose voices mingled as they prayed Around one parent knee...