The Wreath: A Collection of Poems from Celebrated English AuthorsW.B. Gilley and H.I. Megarey, 1821 - 259 páginas |
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Página 56
... dead . The wind is up : hark ! how it howls ! Methinks , Till now , I never heard a sound so dreary ; Doors creak , and windows clap , and night's foul bird Rook'd in the spire screams loud ; the gloomy ailes Black plaster'd , and hung ...
... dead . The wind is up : hark ! how it howls ! Methinks , Till now , I never heard a sound so dreary ; Doors creak , and windows clap , and night's foul bird Rook'd in the spire screams loud ; the gloomy ailes Black plaster'd , and hung ...
Página 57
... dead of night , or takes his stand O'er some - new open'd grave : and , strange to tell ! Evanishes at crowing of the cock . The new - made widow too I've sometimes spied ; Sad sight ! slow - moving o'er the prostrate dead ! Listless ...
... dead of night , or takes his stand O'er some - new open'd grave : and , strange to tell ! Evanishes at crowing of the cock . The new - made widow too I've sometimes spied ; Sad sight ! slow - moving o'er the prostrate dead ! Listless ...
Página 60
... dead , By letting out their persons by the hour To mimic sorrow , when the heart's not sad ! How rich the trappings , now they're all unfurl'd And glittering in the sun ! Triumphant entries Of conquerors , and coronation pomps , In ...
... dead , By letting out their persons by the hour To mimic sorrow , when the heart's not sad ! How rich the trappings , now they're all unfurl'd And glittering in the sun ! Triumphant entries Of conquerors , and coronation pomps , In ...
Página 65
... dead man into rage , And warm with red resentment the wan cheek . Here the great masters of the healing art , These mighty mock defrauders of the tomb ! Spite of their juleps and catholicons , Resign to fate . Proud Esculapius ' son ...
... dead man into rage , And warm with red resentment the wan cheek . Here the great masters of the healing art , These mighty mock defrauders of the tomb ! Spite of their juleps and catholicons , Resign to fate . Proud Esculapius ' son ...
Página 68
... half so desperate as this . Tell us , ye dead ! will none of you in pity To those you left behind , disclose the secret ? Oh ! that some courteous ghost would blab it out , What ' tis you are , and we must shortly 68 THE GRAVE .
... half so desperate as this . Tell us , ye dead ! will none of you in pity To those you left behind , disclose the secret ? Oh ! that some courteous ghost would blab it out , What ' tis you are , and we must shortly 68 THE GRAVE .
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The Wreath: A Collection of Poems from Celebrated English Authors WREATH. Visualização integral - 1824 |
The wreath; a collection of poems, from celebrated English authors Wreath Visualização integral - 1830 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
agen amid beam beneath blest bliss blood bloom bosom breast breath call'd chamomile charms cheer clouds dark death deep dread e'er earth Edwin eternal ev'n eyes fair fame fancy fate fire flame flower gale gentle gloomy glory grave groves hand heart heaven Hermit horror hour Hypochondria Indolence Innisfail light little bill lonely lov'd love lies bleeding lyre mind moping morn mourn Muse Musidora nature Nature's ne'er night o'er pain peace Philomela pity pleasure praise pride rage repose rills rise round rude scene seem'd seraph shade shore sigh sing skies sleep smil'd smile soft song sooth soul sound spleen Stamp'd strain stream sublime sweet tears tempest thee thine thou thro toil trembling Twas tyrant vale vext virtue voice wandering wave weary ween Whilst wild wild thyme wind wings wretch youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 117 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Página 222 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Página 173 - Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, Whose bright succession decks the varied year; Whatever sweets salute the northern sky With vernal lives, that blossom but to die ; These here disporting own the kindred soil, Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil ; While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand, To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
Página 193 - Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood ; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.
Página 120 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Página 141 - By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw; And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track: 'Twas autumn, — and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
Página 181 - And calmly bent, to servitude conform, Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm. Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old ! Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; War in each breast, and freedom on each brow.
Página 169 - Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good.
Página 177 - And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still, But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill, Yet would the village praise my wondrous power, And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour. Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze ; And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.
Página 182 - Stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state With daring aims irregularly great ; Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by...