The Poetical Album: And Register of Modern Fugitive Poetry, Volume 2Alaric Alexander Watts Hurst, Chance, and Company, 1829 |
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... Night 125 • 127 A Picture . By Percy Bysshe Shelley 129 To Death . From the German of Glück . By Professor Wilson 131 The Mariner's Dream . By William Dimond 132 • First Love's Recollections . By John Clare 134 Bolton Abbey 136 · To the ...
... Night 125 • 127 A Picture . By Percy Bysshe Shelley 129 To Death . From the German of Glück . By Professor Wilson 131 The Mariner's Dream . By William Dimond 132 • First Love's Recollections . By John Clare 134 Bolton Abbey 136 · To the ...
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... night . Roused by the flames , the blast , with rushing sound , Both fed and fanned the ruin that it found . Long stood each stately tower , and column high , And saw the molten gulf beneath them lie ; Long reared their heads the ...
... night . Roused by the flames , the blast , with rushing sound , Both fed and fanned the ruin that it found . Long stood each stately tower , and column high , And saw the molten gulf beneath them lie ; Long reared their heads the ...
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... night more hideous work hath done , Than whole campaigns beneath a southern sun . Spoiled Child of Fortune ! could the murdered Turk , Or wronged Iberian view thy ghastly work , They'd sheathe the ' vengeful blade , and clearly see ...
... night more hideous work hath done , Than whole campaigns beneath a southern sun . Spoiled Child of Fortune ! could the murdered Turk , Or wronged Iberian view thy ghastly work , They'd sheathe the ' vengeful blade , and clearly see ...
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... night , still dreamed by day , To rule o'er kings , as these o'er subjects sway ; Nor dared thy mitred Mentor set thee right , Thou art not Philip's son - nor he the Stagyrite ! And lo , thy dread , thy hate ! the Queen of Isles ...
... night , still dreamed by day , To rule o'er kings , as these o'er subjects sway ; Nor dared thy mitred Mentor set thee right , Thou art not Philip's son - nor he the Stagyrite ! And lo , thy dread , thy hate ! the Queen of Isles ...
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... night . ' ' Fond of strong beer , too ? ' ' Mainly - drink three quarts . ' ' Marry ! I wonder not then at your pains ; But take you this ; an ' it stir not your ribs , Why then there is no virtue left in rhubarb . Begone ! and see me ...
... night . ' ' Fond of strong beer , too ? ' ' Mainly - drink three quarts . ' ' Marry ! I wonder not then at your pains ; But take you this ; an ' it stir not your ribs , Why then there is no virtue left in rhubarb . Begone ! and see me ...
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The Poetical Album: And Register of Modern Fugitive Poetry, Volume 2 Alaric Alexander Watts Visualização integral - 1829 |
The Poetical Album: And Register of Modern Fugitive Poetry, Volume 2 Alaric Alexander Watts Visualização integral - 1829 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
abbot art thou beauty beneath Blackwood's Magazine blest bloom blue bosom bower breast breath breeze bright brow calm charms cheek clouds cold Congreve rockets coursers dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth fading fair fairy fear flowers gaze gentle gleam glow Godiva gondolier grave green grief Harebells hath heard heart heaven hope hour immortal Song JAMES HOGG JOHN MOULTRIE land life's light lips Literary Gazette Literary Souvenir lonely look LORD BYRON mirth morn muse ne'er never night o'er pale prayer rock rose round scene shade shine shore sigh silent silent empire skies sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit star star by star stream sweet tears thee thine THOMAS DOUBLEDAY thou art thou hast thou wert thought tomb tree voice wandering wave weep wild wind wings young youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 223 - Beyond the flight of time, Beyond this vale of death, There surely is some blessed clime, Where life is not a breath ; Nor life's affections transient fire, Whose sparks fly upward...
Página 89 - All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair — The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing — And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Página 30 - ETHEREAL minstrel! pilgrim of the sky ! Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound ? Or, while the wings aspire, are heart and eye Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground ? Thy nest which thou canst drop into at will, Those quivering wings composed, that music still!
Página 208 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Página 336 - The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more! And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain. But when I speak — thou dost not say What thou ne'er left'st...
Página 221 - To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Página 155 - ALL worldly shapes shall melt in gloom, The Sun himself must die, Before this mortal shall assume Its immortality ! I saw a vision in my sleep, That gave my spirit strength to sweep Adown the gulf of Time ! I...
Página 221 - Who hath not seen Thee oft amid thy store? Sometimes whoever seeks abroad may find Thee sitting careless on a granary floor...
Página 156 - Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage of men. Nor with thy rising beams recall Life's tragedy again: Its piteous pageants bring not back, Nor waken flesh, upon the rack Of pain anew to writhe; Stretched in disease's shapes abhorred, Or mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe.
Página 96 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing...