Lyrical Ballads: Reprinted from the First Edition of 1798D. Nutt, 1890 - Всего страниц: 227 |
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Стр. 151
... guess . And Betty's husband's at the wood , Where by the week he doth abide , A woodman in the distant vale ; There's none to help poor Susan Gale , What must be done ? what will betide ? And Betty from the lane has fetched Her pony , 151.
... guess . And Betty's husband's at the wood , Where by the week he doth abide , A woodman in the distant vale ; There's none to help poor Susan Gale , What must be done ? what will betide ? And Betty from the lane has fetched Her pony , 151.
Стр. 152
... pony , that is mild and good , Whether he be in joy or pain , Feeding at will along the lane , Or bringing faggots from the wood . And he is all in travelling trim , And by the moonlight , Betty Foy Has up upon the saddle set , The like ...
... pony , that is mild and good , Whether he be in joy or pain , Feeding at will along the lane , Or bringing faggots from the wood . And he is all in travelling trim , And by the moonlight , Betty Foy Has up upon the saddle set , The like ...
Стр. 154
... pony's side , On which her idiot boy must ride , And seems no longer in a hurry . But when the pony moved his legs , Oh ! then for the poor idiot boy ! For joy he cannot hold the bridle , For joy his head and heels are idle , He's idle ...
... pony's side , On which her idiot boy must ride , And seems no longer in a hurry . But when the pony moved his legs , Oh ! then for the poor idiot boy ! For joy he cannot hold the bridle , For joy his head and heels are idle , He's idle ...
Стр. 164
... Oh saints ! what is become of him ? " Perhaps he's climbed into an oak , " Where he will stay till he is dead ; " Or sadly he has been misled , " And joined the wandering gypsey - folk . " Or him that wicked pony's carried " To the 164.
... Oh saints ! what is become of him ? " Perhaps he's climbed into an oak , " Where he will stay till he is dead ; " Or sadly he has been misled , " And joined the wandering gypsey - folk . " Or him that wicked pony's carried " To the 164.
Стр. 170
... pony he is mild and good , “ And we have always used him well ; " Perhaps he's gone along the dell , “ And carried Johnny to the wood . ” Then up she springs as if on wings ; She thinks no more of deadly sin ; If Betty fifty ponds ...
... pony he is mild and good , “ And we have always used him well ; " Perhaps he's gone along the dell , “ And carried Johnny to the wood . ” Then up she springs as if on wings ; She thinks no more of deadly sin ; If Betty fifty ponds ...
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Alfoxden ALFRED NUTT ANCYENT MARINERE ANDREW LANG babe Beneath Betty Foy Betty's birds breeze bright changes of text chatter child cold Coleridge dead dear doth dreadful Edited EDWARD DOWDEN English FABLES fair fear Goody Blake green happy Harry Gill hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill of moss idiot boy Johnny Johnny's JOSEPH JACOBS Kilve land of mist limbs Lines written Liswyn farm looks Lyrical Ballads maid Martha Ray mind moon moonlight mov'd Nether Stowey never night NUTT o'er oh misery old Susan pain pleasure poem pond pony poor old porringer pray Quoth Roger of Hoveden round Salisbury Plain Ship silent soul spirit stanza stood Susan Gale sweet tale tears tell thee There's things thorn thou thought thro Tintern Abbey tree turn'd Twas voice wedding-guest wherefore wild wind woman wood Wordsworth
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Стр. 208 - When these wild ecstasies shall be matured Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms, Thy memory be as a dwelling-place For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief. Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations'. Nor, perchance If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice...
Стр. 33 - Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the moon is cast — "If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him.
Стр. 111 - Jane; In bed she moaning lay, Till God released her of her pain ; And then she went away. So in the church-yard she was laid ; And when the grass was dry, Together round her grave we played, My brother John and I.
Стр. 208 - And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be, where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service : rather say With warmer love, oh ! with far deeper zeal Of holier love.
Стр. 60 - Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, Is littleness; that he who feels contempt For any living thing, hath faculties Which he has never used; that thought with him Is in its infancy. The man whose eye Is ever on himself doth look on one, The least of Nature's works, one who might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever.
Стр. 203 - The picture of the mind revives again ; While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years.
Стр. 200 - That on a wild, secluded scene impress Thoughts of more deep seclusion, and connect The landscape with the quiet of the sky.
Стр. viii - In the one the incidents and agents were to be, in part at least, supernatural ; and the excellence aimed at was to consist in the interesting of the affections by the dramatic truth of such emotions as would naturally accompany such situations, supposing them real.
Стр. 204 - What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Стр. 39 - The harbour-bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn ; And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock : The moonlight steep'd in silentness, The steady weathercock.