The Pictorial Book of Ancient Ballad Poetry of Great Britain: Historical, Traditional and Romantic: to which are Added, a Selection of Modern Imitations and Some Translations

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Joseph S. Moore
H. Washbourne & Company, 1853 - Всего страниц: 871
 

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Стр. 690 - Are those her ribs through which the Sun Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a DEATH? and are there two? Is DEATH that woman's mate?
Стр. 701 - I pass, like night, from land to land ; I have strange power of speech ; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me : To him my tale I teach.
Стр. 699 - How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve — He hath a cushion plump. It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. The skiff- boat neared: I heard them talk, "Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now?
Стр. 686 - He holds him with his glittering eye The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years' child: The Mariner hath his will. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner.
Стр. 687 - He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold; And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald...
Стр. 692 - I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; But or ever a prayer had gusht, A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust.
Стр. 592 - But yet his horse was not a whit Inclined to tarry there ! For why ? — his owner had a house Full ten miles off, at Ware. So like an arrow swift he flew, Shot by an archer strong ; So did he fly — which brings me to The middle of my song. Away went Gilpin, out of breath, And sore against his will, Till at his friend the calender's His horse at last stood still.
Стр. 688 - All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
Стр. 694 - They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise.
Стр. 686 - By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? 'The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set: May'st hear the merry din.

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