The Hope of the World, and Other PoemsBentley, 1840 - Всего страниц: 203 |
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Стр. v
... never will , and never can , pass away but with Time itself . That there is an apathy towards new aspirants is undoubted ; but this is the fault of the aspirants themselves . They come in too great numbers ; and - worse still for the ...
... never will , and never can , pass away but with Time itself . That there is an apathy towards new aspirants is undoubted ; but this is the fault of the aspirants themselves . They come in too great numbers ; and - worse still for the ...
Стр. 6
... of that countless host Who left their bones for vultures on the coast , And never saw that land they pined to see , Bethlem's green meads , or waves of Galilee . Call Albion up , to tell the honour'd names Of 6 THE HOPE OF THE WORLD .
... of that countless host Who left their bones for vultures on the coast , And never saw that land they pined to see , Bethlem's green meads , or waves of Galilee . Call Albion up , to tell the honour'd names Of 6 THE HOPE OF THE WORLD .
Стр. 9
... never - ceasing woe , Has sounded shrill the trumpet of alarm , And call'd the ready multitudes to arm ; Made human shambles in each quiet spot , Places of skulls for graveless bones to rot ! Oh , foolish men ! to draw the cumbrous car ...
... never - ceasing woe , Has sounded shrill the trumpet of alarm , And call'd the ready multitudes to arm ; Made human shambles in each quiet spot , Places of skulls for graveless bones to rot ! Oh , foolish men ! to draw the cumbrous car ...
Стр. 13
... never heal again . Were bloodshed sole and last result of strife , There might be hope for earth's remaining life ; But ah ! war's ravages are less confined ; They blight the soul , they fester in the mind ; They brutalize the hearts of ...
... never heal again . Were bloodshed sole and last result of strife , There might be hope for earth's remaining life ; But ah ! war's ravages are less confined ; They blight the soul , they fester in the mind ; They brutalize the hearts of ...
Стр. 19
... never reach'd before ; But what their triumphs ? Whose sad hands were they , That piled the pyramids to last for aye ? Who rais'd the walls , who built each mighty gate With which high Thebes girt herself in state ? Who rear'd old ...
... never reach'd before ; But what their triumphs ? Whose sad hands were they , That piled the pyramids to last for aye ? Who rais'd the walls , who built each mighty gate With which high Thebes girt herself in state ? Who rear'd old ...
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adore Adown afar amid art thou beam Belgrade beneath blast blessings blood breath bright bright eyes Cask-o'-Whiskey cheer clime cold creed Crusades Danube dark dead deep despair dream dwell earth eyes fair Father fear her face Fenris fierce Freedom gaze gentle glory grave green bay tree greenwood tree grief happy Harvest Moon hath fled hear heart heaven heigh helots Hope hour howl JERUSALEM land light lone look'd on Death Lord loud lover lyre maiden man's Merrily O Merrily merry Mexitli mighty mind moon morn mortal mourn never night Nonnie numbers o'er Odin peace pine pleasant poor prayer Rejoice Rhine roam rose Scotland shine shore sigh slaves smile song sorrow soul spirit star sublime sweet tears tell thee thine thou thought turn'd Twas voice vultures Wail Wassail waves weary ween weep whither winds wings
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Стр. 76 - Tell me, ye winged winds, That round my pathway roar, Do ye not know some spot Where mortals weep no more? Some lone and pleasant dell, Some valley in the west, Where, free from toil and pain, The weary soul may rest? The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low, And sighed for pity as it answered, — "No.
Стр. 77 - And thou, serenest moon, That with such lovely face Dost look upon the earth, Asleep in night's embrace, Tell me, in all thy round Hast thou not seen some spot Where miserable man May find a happier lot? Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice sweet but sad responded,
Стр. 78 - Where grief may find a balm, and weariness a rest? Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given, Waved their bright wings, and whispered — " Yes, in Heaven ! * Charles Mackay.
Стр. 195 - ... yellow They'll fill your homes with care and grief, and clothe your backs with tatters ; They'll fill your hearts with evil thoughts ; but never mind !—what matters ? " Though virtue sink, and reason fail, and social ties dissever, I'll be your friend in hour of need, and find you homes for ever; For...
Стр. 196 - The first, it is a spacious house, to all but sots appalling, Where, by the parish bounty fed, vile, in the sunshine crawling, The worn-out drunkard ends his days, and eats the dole of others, A plague and burthen to himself, an eyesore to his brothers.
Стр. 77 - And thou, serenest moon, That with such holy face Dost look upon the Earth Asleep in Night's embrace — Tell me, in all thy round Hast thou not seen some spot Where miserable man Might find a happier lot? Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe, And a voice sweet but sad responded, No.
Стр. 52 - But, Father of the earth, Lord of this boundless sphere, If 'tis Thy high unchanging will That I should linger here ; If 'tis Thy will that I should rove Alone o'er Eden's smiling bowers, Grant that the young birds...
Стр. 77 - Tell me, thou mighty deep, whose billows round me play, Know'st thou some favored spot, some island far away, Where weary man may find the bliss for which he sighs ; Where sorrow never lives, and friendship never dies? The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow, Stopped for a while, and sighed to answer —
Стр. 158 - And wiping from my cheek the tear, He sat him on the grass beside me, He feigned such pretty, amorous woe, Breathed such sweet vows one after other, I could but smile while whispering low,
Стр. 112 - ... tempest-tost, I go where all things go. ' The rude winds bear me onward As suiteth them, not me, O'er dale, o'er hill, Through good, through ill, As Destiny bears thee. ' What though for me one summer, And threescore for thy breath — I live my span, Thou thine, poor man ! And then adown to death ! ' And thus we go together, For lofty as thy lot And lowly mine, My fate is thine, To die, and be forgot !