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Стр. 357
Adorner of the ruin , comforter Each coach afforded accommodation for And only healer when the heart hath bled . Byron , Childe Harold , ' canto iv . stanza 130. them scores of times . Upon inquiry , I learn 18 passengers .
Adorner of the ruin , comforter Each coach afforded accommodation for And only healer when the heart hath bled . Byron , Childe Harold , ' canto iv . stanza 130. them scores of times . Upon inquiry , I learn 18 passengers .
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Стр. 360 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since ; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou, Unchangeable save to thy wild waves...
Стр. 27 - And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; But being both from me, both to each friend, I guess one angel in another's hell. Yet this shall I ne'er know, but live in doubt, Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
Стр. 293 - These beauteous forms, Through a long absence, have not been to me As is a landscape to a blind man's eye : But oft, in lonely rooms, and 'mid the din Of towns and cities, I have owed to them In hours of weariness, sensations sweet, Felt in the blood, and felt along the heart; And passing even into my purer mind. With tranquil restoration...
Стр. 145 - Or slow distemper, or neglected love, (And so, poor wretch ! filled all things with himself, And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he, First named these notes a melancholy strain. And many a poet echoes the conceit...
Стр. 145 - And hark ! the Nightingale begins its song, " Most musical, most melancholy"* bird ! A melancholy bird ? Oh ! idle thought ! In nature there is nothing melancholy. But some night-wandering man, whose heart was pierced With the remembrance of a grievous wrong, Or slow distemper, or neglected love, (And so, poor wretch...
Стр. 182 - The Grand Old Duke of York, He had ten thousand men. He marched them up to the top of the hill And he marched them down again. And when they were up, they were up, And when they were down, they were down, And when they were only half-way up They were neither up nor down.
Стр. 398 - It is a beauteous evening, calm and free, The holy time is quiet as a Nun Breathless with adoration ; the broad sun Is sinking down in its tranquillity ; The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea. Listen ! the mighty Being is awake, And doth with his eternal motion make A sound like thunder — everlastingly.
Стр. 113 - Thou must be true thyself, If thou the truth wouldst teach; Thy soul must overflow, if thou Another's soul wouldst reach ! It needs the overflow of heart To give the lips full speech. Think truly, and thy thoughts Shall the world's famine feed; Speak truly, and each word of thine Shall be a fruitful seed; Live truly, and thy life shall be A great and noble creed.
Стр. 124 - Thou art thy mother's glass, and she in thee Calls back the lovely April of her prime ; So thou through windows of thine age shalt see, Despite of wrinkles, this thy golden time.
Стр. 220 - ... started in their stalls, stamped, and shook their bridles, the men arose and clashed their armour, and the mortal, terrified at the tumult he had excited, dropped the horn from his hand. A voice like that of a giant, louder even than the tumult around, pronounced these words : — " Woe to the coward that ever he was born, That did not draw the sword before he blew the horn.