Choice English LyricsSilver, Burdett, 1894 - Всего страниц: 368 |
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Стр. 59
... . WINTER . WHEN icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail , And Tom bears logs into the hall , And milk comes frozen home in pail ; When blood is nipt , and ways be foul , SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS . 59.
... . WINTER . WHEN icicles hang by the wall And Dick the shepherd blows his nail , And Tom bears logs into the hall , And milk comes frozen home in pail ; When blood is nipt , and ways be foul , SONGS OF NATURE AND THE SEASONS . 59.
Стр. 60
James Baldwin. When blood is nipt , and ways be foul , Then nightly sings the staring owl , Tuwhoo ! Tuwhit ! tuwhoo ! A merry note ! While greasy Joan doth keel the pot . When all around the wind doth blow , And coughing drowns the ...
James Baldwin. When blood is nipt , and ways be foul , Then nightly sings the staring owl , Tuwhoo ! Tuwhit ! tuwhoo ! A merry note ! While greasy Joan doth keel the pot . When all around the wind doth blow , And coughing drowns the ...
Стр. 72
... blood besprent , And many a cruel dent Bruised his helmet . Gloucester , that duke so good , Next of the royal blood , For famous England stood , With his brave brother , Clarence , in steel so bright , Though but a maiden knight , Yet ...
... blood besprent , And many a cruel dent Bruised his helmet . Gloucester , that duke so good , Next of the royal blood , For famous England stood , With his brave brother , Clarence , in steel so bright , Though but a maiden knight , Yet ...
Стр. 73
James Baldwin. Warwick in blood did wade , Oxford the foe invade , And cruel slaughter made , Still as they ran up ; Suffolk his axe did ply , Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtily , Ferrers and Fanhope . Upon Saint Crispin's ...
James Baldwin. Warwick in blood did wade , Oxford the foe invade , And cruel slaughter made , Still as they ran up ; Suffolk his axe did ply , Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtily , Ferrers and Fanhope . Upon Saint Crispin's ...
Стр. 80
... blood I charge ye , By the ruined hearth and shrine — By the blighted hopes of Scotland , By your injuries and mine— Strike this day as if the anvil Lay beneath your blows the while , Be they covenanting traitors , Or the brood of false ...
... blood I charge ye , By the ruined hearth and shrine — By the blighted hopes of Scotland , By your injuries and mine— Strike this day as if the anvil Lay beneath your blows the while , Be they covenanting traitors , Or the brood of false ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
abbot auld Avès ballad Barbara Allen battle BATTLE OF BANNOCKBURN BATTLE OF NASEBY beauty birds blood blow bonnie breast bright Charlemagne cheek crown dead dear death deep doth dreams earth English eyes fair father flowers gallant glory grace grave green hair hand hath head hear heart heaven hill hour John King kiss Lady Clare land light live Lochinvar look Lord lovers maidens merry Minstrels and maids moon mother ne'er never night numbers o'er PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY pibroch poem Procne Richard Barnfield ride ROBERT HERRICK Robin Hood rode rose Samian wine shepherds sigh sing sister sleep smile snow song sorrow soul Spirit spring star steed summer sweet tear tell Tereus thee thine thou art thou hast Toll slowly tree TWA BROTHERS TWA SISTERS unto waves wild WILLIAM WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings
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Стр. 48 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Стр. 54 - Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness ! Close bosom-friend of the maturing Sun ! Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eaves run ; To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core...
Стр. 200 - TO HELEN Helen, thy beauty is to me Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, o'er a perfumed sea, The weary, way-worn wanderer bore To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome.
Стр. 94 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 186 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her, that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Стр. 73 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade! Charge for the guns," he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Стр. 49 - There is a Power whose care Teaches thy way along that pathless coast — The desert and illimitable air — Lone wandering, but not lost. All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Стр. 158 - So stately his form, and so lovely her face. That never a hall such a galliard did grace: While her mother did fret, and her father did fume, And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume; And the bride-maidens whispered, "Twere better by far To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Стр. 186 - GATHER ye rose-buds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying : And this same flower that smiles to-day, To-morrow will be dying.
Стр. 102 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.