The Poetical Common-place Book: Consisting of an Original Selection of Standard and Fugitive Poetry, Including a Few Translations Hitherto UnpublishedJohn Anderson, 1822 - 388 sider |
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Side xiv
... cold moon arose , Soft cherub of the southern breeze , Softly the moonlight , Soon shall I lay my head , Stern winter has fled , Sunk was the sun , and up the eastern heav'n , Sweet be thy slumbers , sister dear , Sweet daughter of a ...
... cold moon arose , Soft cherub of the southern breeze , Softly the moonlight , Soon shall I lay my head , Stern winter has fled , Sunk was the sun , and up the eastern heav'n , Sweet be thy slumbers , sister dear , Sweet daughter of a ...
Side 4
... cold ashes upbraid him ; But nothing he'll reck , if they let him sleep on , In the grave where a Briton has laid him . But half of our heavy task was done , When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring , And we heard the distant and ...
... cold ashes upbraid him ; But nothing he'll reck , if they let him sleep on , In the grave where a Briton has laid him . But half of our heavy task was done , When the clock toll'd the hour for retiring , And we heard the distant and ...
Side 16
... cold and shivering on some friendly spray , In silence pass the cheerless hours away . Nor voice nor sound obtrudes , but where alone The distant cataract's hoarse and hollow moan , Echoing , provokes the wakeful house - dog's bark ...
... cold and shivering on some friendly spray , In silence pass the cheerless hours away . Nor voice nor sound obtrudes , but where alone The distant cataract's hoarse and hollow moan , Echoing , provokes the wakeful house - dog's bark ...
Side 23
... Cold is the atmosphere of grief , When storms assail the barren breast : Go , then , poor exile , seek relief In bosoms where the heart has rest . Or fall upon the oblivious ground , Where silent sorrows buried lie ; There rest is ...
... Cold is the atmosphere of grief , When storms assail the barren breast : Go , then , poor exile , seek relief In bosoms where the heart has rest . Or fall upon the oblivious ground , Where silent sorrows buried lie ; There rest is ...
Side 32
... cold hand signs his release ? It is a storm , where the hot blood Outvies in rage the boiling flood ; And each loose passion of the mind Is like a furious gust of wind , Which beats his bark with many a wave , Till he casts anchor in ...
... cold hand signs his release ? It is a storm , where the hot blood Outvies in rage the boiling flood ; And each loose passion of the mind Is like a furious gust of wind , Which beats his bark with many a wave , Till he casts anchor in ...
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Andre udgaver - Se alle
The Poetical Commonplace Book: Consisting of an Original Selection of ... C. W. C. Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2009 |
The Poetical Commonplace Book: Consisting of an Original Selection of ... C. W. C. Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2009 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
admiring bands ANONYMOUS art thou beam beauty beneath billows black crows blast blest bliss bloom bosom bower breast breath breeze bright charm cheek cherub clouds cold dark dark wave dead dear death delight dream earth ev'ning ev'ry fair fate Fingal flowers fond Gelert gleam gloom glory glow grave green grief grove hail hast hath hear heart Heav'n HENRY KIRKE WHITE hill hour kiss of Morn light lips lonely LORD BYRON lov'd lyre maid moon morn mountain mourn Muse ne'er night o'er pale rapture rill rose round scene seem'd shade sigh silent sleep slumber smile soft song sorrow soul sound star Star of Bethlehem storm strain stream summer sweet swell tear tell tempest thee thine thou thought tomb tree trembling Twas vale voice wake wander wave weep wild wind wing woods youth
Populære passager
Side 53 - 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 187 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Side 270 - When Cheerfulness, a nymph of healthiest hue, Her bow across her shoulder flung, Her buskins gemm'd with morning dew, Blew an inspiring air, that dale and thicket rung, The hunter's call to Faun and Dryad known...
Side 247 - When the broken arches are black in night, And each shafted oriel glimmers white; When the cold light's uncertain shower Streams on the ruined central tower; When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee...
Side 235 - Thus with the year Seasons return, but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of even or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair Presented with a universal blank Of Nature's works to me expunged and rased, And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out...
Side 304 - Teach me to feel another's woe, To hide the fault I see; That mercy I to others show, That mercy show to me.
Side 189 - If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath ? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flatt'ry sooth the dull cold ear of Death...
Side 229 - Can I forget the dismal night, that gave My soul's best part for ever to the grave! How silent did his old companions tread, By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead, Through breathing statues, then unheeded things, Through rows of warriors, and through walks of kings!
Side 85 - Erin, my country ! though sad and forsaken, In dreams I revisit thy sea-beaten shore ; But, alas ! in a far foreign land I awaken, And sigh for the friends who can meet me no more ! Oh cruel fate ! wilt thou never replace me In a mansion of peace — where no perils can chase me?
Side 4 - 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.