The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth, Том 4Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown and Green, 1827 |
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Стр. 5
... given . This tragic Story cheered us ; for it speaks Of female patience winning firm repose ; And of the recompense which conscience seeks A bright , encouraging example shows ; Needful when o'er wide realms the tempest breaks , Needful ...
... given . This tragic Story cheered us ; for it speaks Of female patience winning firm repose ; And of the recompense which conscience seeks A bright , encouraging example shows ; Needful when o'er wide realms the tempest breaks , Needful ...
Стр. 10
... given , A gift of grace from purest heaven . What harmonious pensive changes Wait upon her as she ranges Round and through this Pile of state , Overthrown and desolate ! Now a step or two her way Is through space 10 CANTO I. THE WHITE DOE.
... given , A gift of grace from purest heaven . What harmonious pensive changes Wait upon her as she ranges Round and through this Pile of state , Overthrown and desolate ! Now a step or two her way Is through space 10 CANTO I. THE WHITE DOE.
Стр. 27
... Father at their head ! The Sons obey a natural lord ; The Father had given solemn word To noble Percy , and a force , Still stronger , bends him to his course . This said , our tears to - day may fall c 2 CANTO II . 27 OF RYLSTONE .
... Father at their head ! The Sons obey a natural lord ; The Father had given solemn word To noble Percy , and a force , Still stronger , bends him to his course . This said , our tears to - day may fall c 2 CANTO II . 27 OF RYLSTONE .
Стр. 36
... given in trust , To you a suffering State complains , And ye must raise her from the dust . With wishes of still bolder scope On you we look , with dearest hope , Even for our Altars , for the prize In Heaven , of life that never dies ...
... given in trust , To you a suffering State complains , And ye must raise her from the dust . With wishes of still bolder scope On you we look , with dearest hope , Even for our Altars , for the prize In Heaven , of life that never dies ...
Стр. 43
... given ! Still do our very children boast Of mitred Thurston , what a Host He conquered ! Saw we not the Plain , ( And flying shall behold again ) Where faith was proved ? — while to battle moved The Standard on the Sacred Wain On which ...
... given ! Still do our very children boast Of mitred Thurston , what a Host He conquered ! Saw we not the Plain , ( And flying shall behold again ) Where faith was proved ? — while to battle moved The Standard on the Sacred Wain On which ...
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The Poetical Works of William Wordsworth: With a Memoir, Том 4 William Wordsworth Полный просмотр - 1865 |
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Banner Barden Fell Barden Tower beautiful behold beneath bless Bolton Bolton Abbey bowers brave breast breath bright calm Canute cheer Child city of Durham Coniston Creature curacy dark dear deep delight doth Duddon earth Emily endeavour fair fear feelings flowers Francis Friend gentle gliding grace grave green hand happy hath hear heard heart Heaven hill holy honour hope human Isle of Walney Lady language live lonely look Lord Loweswater Maid metre mind morning mortal Mother mountain murmur nature Norton o'er passion peace pleasure Poem Poet Poetry prayer Reader River RIVER DUDDON Robert Walker rocks round Rylstone Seathwaite side sigh sight silent Simon rouse sing smooth solitude song Sonnets sorrow soul spirit spread stand stood sweet tears thee things thou thought Tower Trajan trees Ulpha vale voice Wharf whence White Doe wind youth
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Стр. 350 - Upon the growing Boy, But He beholds the light, and whence it flows, He sees it in his joy; The Youth, who daily farther from the east Must travel, still is Nature's Priest, And by the vision splendid Is on his way attended; At length the Man perceives it die away, And fade into the light of common day.
Стр. 213 - I HEARD a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran ; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.
Стр. 360 - Humble and rustic life was generally chosen, because, in that condition, the essential passions of the heart find a better soil in which they can attain their maturity, are less under restraint, and speak a plainer and more emphatic language ; because in that condition of life our elementary feelings coexist in a state of greater simplicity, and, consequently, may be more accurately contemplated, and more forcibly communicated...
Стр. 352 - Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a Creature Moving about in worlds not realized...
Стр. 294 - The task, in smoother walks to stray; But thee I now would serve more strictly, if I may. Through no disturbance of my soul, Or strong compunction in me wrought, I supplicate for thy control; But in the quietness of thought: Me this unchartered freedom tires; I feel the weight of chance-desires: My hopes no more must change their name, I long for a repose that ever is the same.
Стр. 350 - See, at his feet, some little plan or chart, Some fragment from his dream of human life, Shaped by himself with newly-learned art ; A wedding or a festival, A mourning or a funeral...
Стр. 347 - As to the tabor's sound, To me alone there came a thought of grief: A timely utterance gave that thought relief, And I again am strong...
Стр. 333 - So once it would have been, — 'tis so no more ; I have submitted to a new control : A power is gone, which nothing can restore ; A deep distress hath humanised my Soul.
Стр. 367 - 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 cannot hear And weep the more because I weep in vain.
Стр. 367 - ... that not only the language of a large portion of every good poem, even of the most elevated character, must necessarily, except with reference to the metre, in no respect differ from that of good prose, but likewise that some of the most interesting parts of the best poems will be found to be strictly the language of prose when prose is well written. The truth of this assertion might be demonstrated by innumerable passages from almost all the poetical writings, even of Milton himself.