The Poetical MelangeG. A. Douglas, 1828 |
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Стр. xi
... morning , 228 Brother thou art gone before us , 160 By others , blest with genius ' rays , 169 Child of the dust , I heard thee mourn , 83 Farewell , thou fair day , thou green earth , and ye skies , 240 Farewell ! if ever fondest ...
... morning , 228 Brother thou art gone before us , 160 By others , blest with genius ' rays , 169 Child of the dust , I heard thee mourn , 83 Farewell , thou fair day , thou green earth , and ye skies , 240 Farewell ! if ever fondest ...
Стр. xii
... morning of the hallowed day ! .... How strange is the course that a Christian must steer , I asked an aged man , —a ... morn appears , ....... 194 80 82 14 12 187 ******* ..................... 191 253 Mark yon My father is dead , and my ...
... morning of the hallowed day ! .... How strange is the course that a Christian must steer , I asked an aged man , —a ... morn appears , ....... 194 80 82 14 12 187 ******* ..................... 191 253 Mark yon My father is dead , and my ...
Стр. xiii
... morn a Peri at the gate , 102 Our father sits on yonder throne , 229 Outrageous did the loud wind blow , 221 Pale and cold is the cheek that my kisses oft pressed , Parting soul ! the flood awaits thee , .. 130 127 ........ Praise God ...
... morn a Peri at the gate , 102 Our father sits on yonder throne , 229 Outrageous did the loud wind blow , 221 Pale and cold is the cheek that my kisses oft pressed , Parting soul ! the flood awaits thee , .. 130 127 ........ Praise God ...
Стр. 37
... morning beam ; And to the turf its helpless hands were frozen : For she - the woful mother , had gone mad , And laid it down , regardless of its fate And of her own . Yet had she many days Of sorrow in the world , but never wept . She ...
... morning beam ; And to the turf its helpless hands were frozen : For she - the woful mother , had gone mad , And laid it down , regardless of its fate And of her own . Yet had she many days Of sorrow in the world , but never wept . She ...
Стр. 40
... , and at rest . No more , on prancing palfrey borne , He carolled , light as lark at morn ; No longer courted and caressed , High placed in hall , a welcome guest , Knox . He poured , to lord and lady gay , The 40 THE POETICAL MELANGE .
... , and at rest . No more , on prancing palfrey borne , He carolled , light as lark at morn ; No longer courted and caressed , High placed in hall , a welcome guest , Knox . He poured , to lord and lady gay , The 40 THE POETICAL MELANGE .
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Anon beam beauty beneath blessed blest bliss bloom bosom bower breast breath bright brow Byron calm charm cheek child clouds cold Cumnor dark dead dear death deep doom dream dust earth eternal fade fair Farewell father fear feel fled flowers frae gazed glory glowing gone grave grief harp hast hath heart heaven Helvellyn hope hour John Malcolm Kilmeny land life's light lisp live lonely look LORD BYRON Mariamne MINSTREL BOY morning mortal mother mountain mourn ne'er never night o'er peace perished band praise prayer rapture rest rose round Samian wine scene seraph shade shed shining book shore sigh silent skies sleep slumber smile song sorrow soul spirit star sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought tomb trembling Twas twill vile bands voice wave ween weep wept wild winds wing youth
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Стр. 131 - ALL thoughts,' all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve...
Стр. 24 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we call'd the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Стр. 85 - The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse : Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires'
Стр. 222 - Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought, Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret joy: Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing — there As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven.
Стр. 85 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Стр. 37 - Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.
Стр. 166 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.
Стр. 37 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Стр. 62 - If aught should tempt my soul to stray From heavenly wisdom's narrow way ; To fly the good I would pursue, Or do the sin I would not do ; Still He, who felt temptation's power, Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.
Стр. 22 - THAT those lips had language ! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same, that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away...