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arms beauty better bird blood blow born brother clouds comes dark dead death deep earth England entered eyes face fair fall father fear feel field fire give given glory gold hand head hear heard heart heaven hill honor hour hundred land leave light live look Lord loud matter mean mind morning mother mountain moved nature never night ocean once pass poor reading rise roll round seemed sense ship shore side silence soon soul sound speak spirit stand stars stood stream sweet tell thee things thou thought thousand tone town true turned voice watch waves whole wind young
Стр. 250 - Then they rode back, but not, Not the six hundred. Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them...
Стр. 98 - 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 bridemaidens whispered, " 'Twere better, by far, To have matched our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.
Стр. 253 - All this? ay, more: Fret till your proud heart break; Go, show your slaves how choleric you are, And make your bondmen tremble.
Стр. 98 - I long wooed your daughter, my suit you denied ; — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine : There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
Стр. 111 - I chatter over stony ways, In little sharps and trebles, I bubble into eddying bays, I babble on the pebbles. With many a curve my banks I fret By many a field and fallow, And many a fairy foreland set With willow-weed and mallow.
Стр. 358 - 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. 341 - When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder. I sift the snow on the mountains below, And their great pines groan aghast ; And all the night 'tis my pillow white, While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Стр. 342 - The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim, When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
Стр. 176 - The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory, Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.