New Elegant Extracts: A Unique Selection from the Most Eminent British Poets and Poetical Translators, Том 3C. and C. Whittingham, 1823 |
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Стр. 10
... sudden swell , At each dead pause what shrill toned voices yell ! • An allusion to the sacrifice of Iphigenia . + Lucretius , I. 63 . The sheeted spectre , rising from the tomb , Points 10 P. V. ELEGANT EXTRACTS . To Superstition Rogers.
... sudden swell , At each dead pause what shrill toned voices yell ! • An allusion to the sacrifice of Iphigenia . + Lucretius , I. 63 . The sheeted spectre , rising from the tomb , Points 10 P. V. ELEGANT EXTRACTS . To Superstition Rogers.
Стр. 14
... dead ! Rites thy brown oaks would never dare Even whisper to the idle air ; Rites that have chain'd old Ocean on his bed . Shiver'd by thy piercing glance , Pointless falls the hero's lance . Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly ...
... dead ! Rites thy brown oaks would never dare Even whisper to the idle air ; Rites that have chain'd old Ocean on his bed . Shiver'd by thy piercing glance , Pointless falls the hero's lance . Thy magic bids the imperial eagle fly ...
Стр. 33
... dead ! By thy temple's sable floor , By thy altar stain'd with gore , Stain'd with gore and strew'd with bones , Echoing shrieks , and echoing groans ! Vengeance on the strangers shed , Mix them instant with the dead ! ' Ordaz heard ...
... dead ! By thy temple's sable floor , By thy altar stain'd with gore , Stain'd with gore and strew'd with bones , Echoing shrieks , and echoing groans ! Vengeance on the strangers shed , Mix them instant with the dead ! ' Ordaz heard ...
Стр. 35
... dead , Fugitives the mountains spread . Mexico , ' tis thine to know More of battle , more of woe ! — Bright in arms the stranger train O'er thy causeways move again . Bend the bow , the shaft prepare , Join the breastplate's folds with ...
... dead , Fugitives the mountains spread . Mexico , ' tis thine to know More of battle , more of woe ! — Bright in arms the stranger train O'er thy causeways move again . Bend the bow , the shaft prepare , Join the breastplate's folds with ...
Стр. 44
... dead , Ah ! not in vain the hero's noble toil , Ah , not in vain the patriot's blood is shed , - That blood shall consecrate his native soil ! Illustrious names to history's record dear , And breathed when some high impulse fires the ...
... dead , Ah ! not in vain the hero's noble toil , Ah , not in vain the patriot's blood is shed , - That blood shall consecrate his native soil ! Illustrious names to history's record dear , And breathed when some high impulse fires the ...
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Anacreon ANNA SEWARD beams beauty beneath blast bless'd bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breast breath bright brow CHARLOTTE SMITH charms cheek cheer courser crown'd Cumnor dark dear death deep delight dost doth dreams earth fair fairy Fancy fire flame flowers fond gale gentle Glastonbury Abbey gloom glory glowing golden grace green groves hail hast hath hear heart heaven hill Hope hour Ianthe Inchcape Rock King King Arthur light lonely lyre maid Motezuma mourn Muse Musidora Naiads Nature's night numbers nymph o'er Ovid pale Petrarch plain R. A. DAVENPORT rage rapture rills round scenes shade shed shine sighs silent sing sleep smile soft song soothe sorrow soul sound Spring storm stranger band stream sweet swell tears tempests thee thine thou train vale vermil voice wake wave weep wild wind wing youth
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Стр. 313 - Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound: I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when...
Стр. 311 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done. You get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Стр. 325 - Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. Her face was...
Стр. 328 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire: These ears alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet Morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
Стр. 312 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Стр. 311 - ... no help, come let us kiss and part, — Nay I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath, When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies, When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, —...
Стр. 328 - In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire : The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas ! for other notes repine ; A different object do these eyes require ; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine ; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire...
Стр. 16 - Woods ! that listen to the night-birds singing, Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, Save when your own imperious branches swinging, Have made a solemn music of the wind ! Where, like a man beloved of God, Through glooms, which never woodman trod...
Стр. 74 - Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat, With short, shrill shriek, flits by on leathern wing; Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn...
Стр. 306 - The turtle to her mate hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings ; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.