New elegant extracts; a selection from the most eminent British poets and poetical translators, by R.A. Davenport, Volume 4 |
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Página 11
... Muse shall give A verse ; the sorrowing maid a sigh . While I alas ! no distant date , Mix with the dust from whence I came , Without a friend to weep my fate , Without a stone to tell my name . GIFFORD . WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTER THE ...
... Muse shall give A verse ; the sorrowing maid a sigh . While I alas ! no distant date , Mix with the dust from whence I came , Without a friend to weep my fate , Without a stone to tell my name . GIFFORD . WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTER THE ...
Página 53
... Muses scorn our simple dome , Or , knit in mystic dance , the Graces fair . The woodland nymphs and gentle fays at eve Forth from the dripping eave and mossy dell , Should round our hearth fantastic measures weave , And shield from ...
... Muses scorn our simple dome , Or , knit in mystic dance , the Graces fair . The woodland nymphs and gentle fays at eve Forth from the dripping eave and mossy dell , Should round our hearth fantastic measures weave , And shield from ...
Página 57
... Muses ! or my passion aid ; Why should I loiter by your idle spring ? My humble voice would move one only maid , And she contemns the trifles which I sing . VOL . IV . I I do not ask the lofty epic strain , Nor ELEGIES , AMATORY AND ...
... Muses ! or my passion aid ; Why should I loiter by your idle spring ? My humble voice would move one only maid , And she contemns the trifles which I sing . VOL . IV . I I do not ask the lofty epic strain , Nor ELEGIES , AMATORY AND ...
Página 58
... Muses ! if she will not hear . No more in useless innocence I'll pine ; Since guilty presents win the greedy fair , I'll tear its honours from the broken shrine , But chiefly thine , O Venus ! will I tear , Deceived by thee , I loved a ...
... Muses ! if she will not hear . No more in useless innocence I'll pine ; Since guilty presents win the greedy fair , I'll tear its honours from the broken shrine , But chiefly thine , O Venus ! will I tear , Deceived by thee , I loved a ...
Página 61
... Muse obtrudes her thin disguise , No more with awkward fallacy complains How every fervour from my bosom flies , And Reason in her lonesome palace reigns . Ere the chill winter of our days arrive , No more she paints the breast from ...
... Muse obtrudes her thin disguise , No more with awkward fallacy complains How every fervour from my bosom flies , And Reason in her lonesome palace reigns . Ere the chill winter of our days arrive , No more she paints the breast from ...
Palavras e frases frequentes
adieu beams beauty beguile beneath bless bless'd bliss bloom bosom cold bower breast breath bright CHARLOTTE SMITH charm cheek cheer dark dear death despair dream e'er ELEGY eyes fade fair Fair city Fancy farewell fate feel flame flowers fond gale gay nature gentle gloom glow grace grave grief grove hast hear heart Heaven honours hope HOTWELLS hour hour of victory life's lips lonely LORD BYRON love restore love's Lover Lycidas lyre Maid with bosom mind Monody morn mourn Muse Naiad ne'er night nymph o'er pain pale pangs pass'd peace pity pride rapture rill rise round scenes scorn shade shine shore sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song soothe sorrows soul spring strain stream sweet tear tempest tender thee thine thou thought tomb Twas vale virtue voice wake wandering wave weep wild winds youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 170 - Would'st softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? I would not trust my heart ; — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Página 193 - Ay me, I fondly dream, Had ye been there! — for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Página 172 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Página 195 - Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold! Of other care they little reckoning make Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths!
Página 198 - Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Página 197 - Where the great vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold ; Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth : And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Página 197 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Página 193 - O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return! Thee, Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves, With wild Thyme and the gadding Vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes, mourn. The Willows, and the Hazel Copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft lays.
Página 170 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Página 126 - Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.