The Select Poetical WorksPhillips & Sampson, 1848 - 406 páginas |
No interior do livro
Resultados 1-5 de 19
Página 5
... wander alone amid the majestic and sublime scenery of the High- lands , until his soul appeared tinged with those elements of real sublimity , and drank a species of inspiration from the mists of the mountains , the wild waves of the ...
... wander alone amid the majestic and sublime scenery of the High- lands , until his soul appeared tinged with those elements of real sublimity , and drank a species of inspiration from the mists of the mountains , the wild waves of the ...
Página 16
... , ... 402 Lines on hearing that Lady Byron was Ill ,. ..404 Impromptu , in reply to a Friend , ..406 Haidee wandering with Juan , .... ..407 Stanzas for Music , ... ..408 HOURS OF IDLENESS . 1 1 HOURS OF IDLENESS . 16 CONTENTS .
... , ... 402 Lines on hearing that Lady Byron was Ill ,. ..404 Impromptu , in reply to a Friend , ..406 Haidee wandering with Juan , .... ..407 Stanzas for Music , ... ..408 HOURS OF IDLENESS . 1 1 HOURS OF IDLENESS . 16 CONTENTS .
Página 69
... wandering hearts beguile , Smile at least , or seem to smile . Eyes like thine were never meant To hide their orbs in dark restraint ; Spite of all thou fain wouldst say , Still in truant beams they play . Thy lips but here my modest ...
... wandering hearts beguile , Smile at least , or seem to smile . Eyes like thine were never meant To hide their orbs in dark restraint ; Spite of all thou fain wouldst say , Still in truant beams they play . Thy lips but here my modest ...
Página 86
... wandering baby who can fear ? " I heard his seeming artless tale , I heard his sighs upon the gale : My breast was never pity's foe , But felt for all the baby's woe . I drew the bar , and by the light Young Love , the infant , met my ...
... wandering baby who can fear ? " I heard his seeming artless tale , I heard his sighs upon the gale : My breast was never pity's foe , But felt for all the baby's woe . I drew the bar , and by the light Young Love , the infant , met my ...
Página 98
... wandering eyes ; The gilded harness Rhamnes ' coursers felt , The gems which stud the monarch's golden belt : This from the pallid corse was quickly torn , Once by a line of former chieftains worn . Th ' exulting boy the studded girdle ...
... wandering eyes ; The gilded harness Rhamnes ' coursers felt , The gems which stud the monarch's golden belt : This from the pallid corse was quickly torn , Once by a line of former chieftains worn . Th ' exulting boy the studded girdle ...
Índice
19 | |
31 | |
38 | |
45 | |
51 | |
57 | |
59 | |
66 | |
72 | |
78 | |
84 | |
102 | |
111 | |
117 | |
128 | |
142 | |
151 | |
157 | |
165 | |
203 | |
210 | |
216 | |
278 | |
286 | |
292 | |
298 | |
305 | |
312 | |
318 | |
351 | |
383 | |
389 | |
396 | |
402 | |
Outras edições - Ver tudo
Palavras e frases frequentes
art thou bard beam beauty behold beneath bless blest blood bosom breast breath brow Calmar canst CATULLUS charms cheek chief cold dare dark dead dear death deep dread dream dwell e'en earth expire fair fairy bowers falchion fame fate fear feel flow fond forget friendship gaze glory glow grave Greece grief hate hath heart heaven hope hour immortal kiss Latian live Lochlin Lord Byron lyre Mathon mind mingle Morven mourn muse NAPOLEON BONAPARTE ne'er never NEWFOUNDLAND DOG NEWSTEAD ABBEY night numbers o'er once Orla Oscar pangs perchance praise pride Probus remembrance rise roll Samian wine scene seek shade shine shore sigh sleep slumber smile soar soft song soothe sorrow soul spirit strain sweet tears thee thine thou art thou hast thou wert thought throng trembling truth voice wandering wave weep wild wings youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 318 - Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations — all were his ! He counted them at break of day — And when the sun set, where were they?
Página 214 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold ; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Página 319 - Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? Must we but blush ?— Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three, To make a new Thermopylae...
Página 192 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low. So the struck eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart. Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel „ While the same plumage that had warmed his nest, Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Página 320 - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! On Suli's rock and Parga's shore Exists the remnant of a line Such as the Doric mothers bore ; And there, perhaps, some seed is sown The Heracleidan blood might own.
Página 265 - Adieu, adieu ! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue ; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight: Farewell awhile to him and thee, My native Land— Good Night!
Página 332 - O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home!
Página 240 - Had wander'd from its dwelling, and her eyes They had not their own lustre, but the look Which is not of the earth; she was become The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts Were combinations of disjointed things; And forms impalpable and unperceived Of others
Página 320 - Trust not for freedom to the Franks — They have a king who buys and sells: In native swords, and native ranks, The only hope of courage dwells ; But Turkish force and Latin fraud Would break your shield, however broad.
Página 214 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail...