Poems of Places Oceana 1 V.; England 4; Scotland 3 V: Iceland, Switzerland, Greece, Russia, Asia, 3 America 5, Том 6 |
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Стр. 29
... latch that says , " Come in . " Plain dwelling this ! a narrow door , No carpet by soft sandals trod , 2 . TA A Fearm : The star sig sel ALLOWAY . 29 ALLOWAY BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT BURNS BURNS ALLOWAY BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT BURNS BURNS.
... latch that says , " Come in . " Plain dwelling this ! a narrow door , No carpet by soft sandals trod , 2 . TA A Fearm : The star sig sel ALLOWAY . 29 ALLOWAY BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT BURNS BURNS ALLOWAY BIRTHPLACE OF ROBERT BURNS BURNS.
Стр. 42
... soft vale lies , And lofty springs give birth to lowly streams . William Wordsworth . THE GOLDEN ISLAND : ARRAN FROM AYR . EEP set in distant seas it lies ; The noonday clouds above it rise , fall , Then drop as white as virgin's pall ...
... soft vale lies , And lofty springs give birth to lowly streams . William Wordsworth . THE GOLDEN ISLAND : ARRAN FROM AYR . EEP set in distant seas it lies ; The noonday clouds above it rise , fall , Then drop as white as virgin's pall ...
Стр. 63
... soft sea - wind as well , And now would fain arouse , arise ; I count the red lights in the skies ; I yield as to a fairy spell . Heard ye the feet of flying horse ? Heard ye the bogles in the air That clutch at Tam O'Shanter's mare ...
... soft sea - wind as well , And now would fain arouse , arise ; I count the red lights in the skies ; I yield as to a fairy spell . Heard ye the feet of flying horse ? Heard ye the bogles in the air That clutch at Tam O'Shanter's mare ...
Стр. 81
... soft lake swells to a sea , He smiles through the storm , And his heart grows warm As he thinks how his streams feed the plains , And the brave old Ben Grows young again , And swells with his lusty veins . For Cruachan is king of the ...
... soft lake swells to a sea , He smiles through the storm , And his heart grows warm As he thinks how his streams feed the plains , And the brave old Ben Grows young again , And swells with his lusty veins . For Cruachan is king of the ...
Стр. 106
... soft , how dear ! That frae my e'e still wrings the tear ! Yet still the hope my heart shall cheer Again to meet my Johnny , O. The primrose saw , an ' blue harebell , But nane o ' them our love can tell , The thrilling joy I felt too ...
... soft , how dear ! That frae my e'e still wrings the tear ! Yet still the hope my heart shall cheer Again to meet my Johnny , O. The primrose saw , an ' blue harebell , But nane o ' them our love can tell , The thrilling joy I felt too ...
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Poems of Places Oceana 1 V.; England 4; Scotland 3 V: Iceland ..., Том 19 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Недоступно для просмотра - 2016 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Airly Beacon amang Auchtertool auld Ballochmyle banks of Ayr Ben Lomond beneath Bennachie birds birks birks of Aberfeldy Blaavin blithe bloom blue bonnie Doon bonnie lass bonny wood bosom bower braes Branksome Hall brave breast BRIG bright Carmyle Castle Charlie clouds Clyde Coquet Water corri Craig Elachie Craigcrook Craigcrook Roses Craigie Lea Cutty-sark dark David Macbeth Moir dear deep Doon dream fair Farewell flowers frae Gadie rins gleaming glen gray green ha'e heart heaven Highland land lassie Lochiel Lomond lone loud Mary mony morn mountain mourn mournfully ne'er night o'er pale proud River roar Robert Burns Robert Tannahill rock round sang scene shade shore sing Sir Walter Scott smile Stand fast stood stray stream summer sweet sword thee thine Thou bonny torrents towers tree vale wander wave weary Whare wild William Wordsworth wind wood of Craigie
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Стр. 187 - She should have died hereafter; There would have been a time for such a word. To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death.
Стр. 45 - O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie; For dear to me as light and life Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' mony a vow and lock'd embrace Our parting was fu' tender; And pledging aft to meet again, We tore oursels asunder; But, Oh!
Стр. 46 - Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast...
Стр. iii - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well : For him no minstrel raptures swell ; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung.
Стр. ix - Come away, come away, Hark to the summons! Come in your war- array, Gentles and commons. Come from deep glen, and From mountain so rocky; The war-pipe and pennon Are at Inverlochy. Come every hill-plaid, and True heart that wears one, Come every steel blade, and Strong hand that bears one.
Стр. 155 - Woe, woe to the riders that trample them down! Proud Cumberland prances, insulting the slain, And their hoof-beaten bosoms are trod to the plain.
Стр. x - MY HEART'S IN THE HIGHLANDS. MY heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here ; My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer ; Chasing the wild deer, and following the roe, My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.
Стр. 25 - SHANTER: A TALE Of Brownyis and of Bogillis full is this buke. — GAWIN DOUGLAS. When chapman billies leave the street, And drouthy neebors neebors meet, As market-days are wearing late, An' folk begin to tak the gate, While we sit bousing at the nappy, An...
Стр. 30 - Tam wi' furious ettle ; But little wist she Maggie's mettle — Ae spring brought off her master hale, But left behind her ain gray tail : The carlin claught her by the rump, And left poor Maggie scarce a stump. Now, wha this tale o...
Стр. iii - BREATHES there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned From wandering on a foreign strand...