Poetical Works

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Bell & Daldy, 1870 - Всего страниц: 221
 

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Стр. 220 - It was my guide, my light, my all, it bade my dark forebodings cease ; and through the storm and danger's thrall it led me to the port of peace. Now safely moored — my perils o'er, I'll sing, first in night's diadem, for ever and for evermore, the Star— The Star of Bethlehem...
Стр. 138 - Winter's sway, And dared the sturdy blusterer to the fight, Thee on this bank he threw To mark his victory. In this low vale, the promise of the year, Serene, thou openest to the nipping gale, Unnoticed and alone, Thy tender elegance. So virtue blooms, brought forth amid the storms Of chill...
Стр. 219 - When, marshalled on the nightly plain, The glittering host bestud the sky, One Star alone, of all the train, Can fix the sinner's wandering eye. Hark ! hark ! to God the chorus breaks, From every host, from every gem ; But one alone the Saviour speaks, It is the star of Bethlehem.
Стр. 218 - And wilt thou bend a listening ear, To praises low as ours? Thou wilt! for thou dost love to hear The song which meekness pours.
Стр. 22 - Tis passing strange, to mark his fallacies ; Behold him proudly view some pompous pile, Whose high dome swells to emulate the skies, And smile, and say, my name shall live with this Till Time shall be no more...
Стр. 166 - I'll weave a melancholy song: And sweet the strain shall be and long, The melody of death. Come, funeral flower ! who lov'st to dwell With the pale corse in lonely tomb, And throw across the desert gloom A sweet decaying smell. Come, press my lips, and lie with me Beneath the lowly alder tree ; And we will sleep a pleasant sleep ; And not a care shall dare intrude, To break the marble solitude, So peaceful and so deep.
Стр. 214 - And when the blustering winter winds Howl in the woods that clothe my cave, I lay me on my lonely mat, And pleasant are my dreams. And fancy gives me back my wife; And fancy gives me back my child; She gives me back my little home, And all its placid joys. Then hateful is the morning hour, That calls me from the dream of bliss, To find myself still lone, and hear The same dull sounds again.
Стр. 161 - HARK ! how the merry bells ring jocund round, And now they die upon the veering breeze ; Anon they thunder loud Full on the musing ear. Wafted in varying cadence, by the shore Of the still twinkling river, they bespeak A day of jubilee, An ancient holiday. And, lo ! the rural revels are begun, And gaily echoing to the laughing sky, On the smooth.shaven green, Resounds the voice of Mirth.
Стр. 79 - And fraught with loveliness; and it is hard To feel the hand of Death arrest one's steps, Throw a chill blight o'er all one's budding hopes, And hurl one's soul untimely to the shades, Lost in the gaping gulf of blank oblivion. Fifty years hence, and who will hear of Henry? Oh!
Стр. 188 - TO CONSUMPTION. GENTLY, most gently, on thy victim's head, Consumption, lay thine hand ! — let me decay, Like the expiring lamp, unseen, away, And softly go to slumber with the dead. And if 'tis true what holy men have said, That strains angelic oft foretell the day Of death to those good men who fall thy prey, O let the...

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