British melodies, extracts from the modern poets [signed J.H.R.].1820 |
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Resultater 1-5 af 30
Side 4
... hear the passing bell Then Lady twine a wreath for me , And twine it of the Cypress Tree ! Yes twine for me the Cypress bough , But O Matilda , twine not now ! Stay till a few brief months are past , And I have look'd and lov'd my last ...
... hear the passing bell Then Lady twine a wreath for me , And twine it of the Cypress Tree ! Yes twine for me the Cypress bough , But O Matilda , twine not now ! Stay till a few brief months are past , And I have look'd and lov'd my last ...
Side 7
... hear ? ' twas my Henry that sigh'd ! All mournful she hasten'd , nor wander'd she far , When bleeding , and low , on the heath she descried , By the light of the moon , her poor wounded Hussar ! From his bosom that heaved , the last ...
... hear ? ' twas my Henry that sigh'd ! All mournful she hasten'd , nor wander'd she far , When bleeding , and low , on the heath she descried , By the light of the moon , her poor wounded Hussar ! From his bosom that heaved , the last ...
Side 30
... hear of victory , Where one so dear , so dauntless , fell . " Where shall they turn to mourn thee less ? When cease to hear thy cherished name ? Time cannot teach forgetfulness , While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame . Alas ! for them ...
... hear of victory , Where one so dear , so dauntless , fell . " Where shall they turn to mourn thee less ? When cease to hear thy cherished name ? Time cannot teach forgetfulness , While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame . Alas ! for them ...
Side 32
... , it never smil'd But seeks its mother's rest . Hark ! we hear the general cry ! Hark ! the passing bell ! A thousand , thousand bosoms sigh A long and last farewell , THE BARD'S INCANTATION . * The Forest of Glenmore is 32 Bowles.
... , it never smil'd But seeks its mother's rest . Hark ! we hear the general cry ! Hark ! the passing bell ! A thousand , thousand bosoms sigh A long and last farewell , THE BARD'S INCANTATION . * The Forest of Glenmore is 32 Bowles.
Side 44
... hear his voice attune Its " rural minstrelsy ; With native humour , feeling , fraught , Descriptive truth , energic thought , And heav'n - taught harmony . Dire Bowl ! to grace thy victim dead , Be thy dark sides with cypress spread ...
... hear his voice attune Its " rural minstrelsy ; With native humour , feeling , fraught , Descriptive truth , energic thought , And heav'n - taught harmony . Dire Bowl ! to grace thy victim dead , Be thy dark sides with cypress spread ...
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Ave Maris Stella bards battle battle of Corunna beams beauty blest bosom brave breast breath bright calm charms clouds cold Culloden dark dead dear death deep delight dread dream earth Erin Erin go bragh fair fame fancy farewell feel flowers friends gaze glory glow goblet grave green grief harp hast hath heart heaven hope Horace Twiss hour ladies gay light Lochiel lonely Lord Byron mingle Moore morning mountain mourn murmur Muse ne'er never night Norsemen numbers o'er R. B. SHERIDAN rapture remember roam rose round scene shed shine shore sigh silent SIR PETER PARKER sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound sparkle spirit Star storm stream sweet tear tell tempests thee thine thou art thought thro Twas twilight twine vex'd voice Walter Scott wandering waters wave weep wild wind youth
Populære passager
Side 41 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Side 222 - The picture of the mind revives again : While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years.
Side 222 - For nature then (The coarser pleasures of my boyish days, And their glad animal movements all gone by) To me was all in all. — I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, 80 That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Side 240 - Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Side 28 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Side 96 - Nelson and the North Sing the glorious day's renown, When to battle fierce came forth All the might of Denmark's crown, And her arms along the deep proudly shone; By each gun the lighted brand In a bold determined hand, And the Prince of all the land Led them on.
Side 99 - Tis a note of enchantment ; what ails her ? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees ; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside. Green pastures she views in the midst of the dale, Down which she so often has tripped with her pail ; And a single small Cottage, a nest like a dove's, The one only dwelling on earth that she loves.
Side 42 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry. Few, few shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet ; And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Side 225 - And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be, where I no more can hear Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams Of past existence, wilt thou then forget That on the banks of this delightful stream We stood together ; and that I, so long A worshipper of Nature, hither came, Unwearied in that service : rather say With warmer love, oh ! with far deeper zeal Of holier love.
Side 2 - 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.