English Sacred Poetry of the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth CenturiesRobert Aris Willmott Routledge, Warne, & Routledge, 1863 - Всего страниц: 387 |
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Стр. 8
... wings About that mighty bound which doth embrace The rolling spheres , and parts their hours by space , That high Eternal Power , which now doth move In all these things , mov'd in itself by love . It lov'd itself , because itself was ...
... wings About that mighty bound which doth embrace The rolling spheres , and parts their hours by space , That high Eternal Power , which now doth move In all these things , mov'd in itself by love . It lov'd itself , because itself was ...
Стр. 9
... wings to cut the skies , When He them on His messages doth send , Or on His own dread presence to attend , Where they behold the glory of His light , And carol hymns of love both day and night . Both day and night is unto them all one ...
... wings to cut the skies , When He them on His messages doth send , Or on His own dread presence to attend , Where they behold the glory of His light , And carol hymns of love both day and night . Both day and night is unto them all one ...
Стр. 47
... wings From the high mountains of Panchæa springs , To that new - found - out world , where sober night Takes from th ' antipodes her silent flight ; To those dark seas , where horrid winter reigns , And binds the stubborn floods in icy ...
... wings From the high mountains of Panchæa springs , To that new - found - out world , where sober night Takes from th ' antipodes her silent flight ; To those dark seas , where horrid winter reigns , And binds the stubborn floods in icy ...
Стр. 50
... wings , Of ancient years , methinks I see ; A burning torch in hand he brings , And thus began to speak to me . " That God , whose aid thou didst implore , Hath sent me hither for thy sake ; Pluck up thy sprites , lament no more , With ...
... wings , Of ancient years , methinks I see ; A burning torch in hand he brings , And thus began to speak to me . " That God , whose aid thou didst implore , Hath sent me hither for thy sake ; Pluck up thy sprites , lament no more , With ...
Стр. 55
... wing O'ershadows half the earth , whose dismal sight Frighten'd the Muses from their native spring , Already stoops , and flags with weary flight : Who then shall look for happiness beneath ? Where each new day proclaims chance , change ...
... wing O'ershadows half the earth , whose dismal sight Frighten'd the Muses from their native spring , Already stoops , and flags with weary flight : Who then shall look for happiness beneath ? Where each new day proclaims chance , change ...
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Angels beams beauty behold beneath bless blest breast breath bright brow cheerful clouds cold crown dark dead death deep DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB dost doth dread dreams dust dwell earth earthly Ebenezer Elliot Edmund Cartwright ELEGY WRITTEN eternal fair faith fear flowers George Crabbe gloom glorious glory grace grave grief hand Harrison Weir hast hath heart Heaven heavenly hill holy hope hour HYMN J. D. Watson life's light live look Lord mind morn mountains night o'er pain peace PENATES praise prayer PRAYER OF SOLOMON rest rise round sacred shade shine sigh silent sing sleep smile soft solemn song sorrow soul spirit spring stars STEPHEN'S DAY storm sweet tears tell tempest Thee thine things Thomas Chatterton Thomas Warton Thou art thought thro tomb Twas unto Vex'd voice wave winds wings wonder
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Стр. 27 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the...
Стр. 233 - And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Стр. 178 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Стр. 182 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Стр. 101 - These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable ; who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Стр. 102 - His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Стр. 68 - IN the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me...
Стр. 102 - Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Стр. 252 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Стр. 326 - BY Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab There lies a lonely grave. And no man knows that sepulchre, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there.