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The flowers of literature, or, Encyclopædia of anecdote, a coll ..., Volume 4
Visualização integral - 1822
The flowers of literature, or, Encyclopædia of anecdote, a coll ..., Volume 1
Visualização integral - 1822
The flowers of literature, or, Encyclopædia of anecdote, a coll ..., Volume 3
Visualização integral - 1821
afterwards answer appearance army asked attended bashaw beautiful become believe better body brought called carried cause character coming command court death desired door Duke entered eyes face fair father feel flowers France French gave give given hand happened happy head hear heard heart hold honour hope horse hour Italy kind King knew lady learned leave less living look Lord manner master means meet mind month morning nature never night observed occasion once passed person poor present Prince Queen reason received replied respect Resumed returned round seemed sent shilling short side sometimes soon speak spirit stand sword taken talk tell thee thing thou thought told took turned voice whole wife witness woman wou'd young
Página 161 - Dis's waggon! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty; violets, dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, That die unmarried, ere they can behold Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and The crown-imperial; lilies of all kinds, The flower-de-luce being one ! O, these I lack, To make you garlands of; and, my sweet friend, To strew him o'er and o'er.
Página 161 - O Proserpina ! For the flowers now that frighted thou let'st fall From Dis's waggon ! daffodils, That come before the swallow dares, and take The winds of March with beauty ; violets dim, But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes Or Cytherea's breath...
Página 304 - It ceased ; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, — A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Página 238 - Get up, get up for shame ! the blooming morn Upon her wings presents the god unshorn. See how Aurora throws her fair Fresh-quilted colours through the air: Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see The dew bespangling herb and tree.
Página 239 - There on beds of violets blue, And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew, Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair, So buxom, blithe, and debonair.
Página 373 - The poetry of earth is never dead: When all the birds are faint with the hot Sun, And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead. That is the grasshopper's : he takes the lead In summer luxury — he has never done With his delights, for when tired out with fun, He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
Página 168 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And -we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Página 158 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her ; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy : for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold...
Página 169 - Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...
Página 236 - The same whom in my school-boy days I listened to; that Cry Which made me look a thousand ways In bush, and tree, and sky. To seek thee did I often rove Through woods and on the green; And thou wert still a hope, a love; Still longed for, never seen. And I can listen to thee yet; Can lie upon the plain And listen, till I do beget That golden time again.