The works of Alfred Tennyson, Bind 3 |
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Side 11
... flying terms , But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian - place , The little hearth - flower Lilia . Thus he spoke , Part banter , part affection . " True , " she said , " We doubt not that . O yes , you miss'd us much . I'll stake my ruby ...
... flying terms , But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian - place , The little hearth - flower Lilia . Thus he spoke , Part banter , part affection . " True , " she said , " We doubt not that . O yes , you miss'd us much . I'll stake my ruby ...
Side 20
... flying reach'd the frontier : then we crost To a livelier land ; and so by tilth and grange , And vines , and blowing bosks of wilderness , We gain'd the mother - city thick with towers , And in the imperial palace found the king . His ...
... flying reach'd the frontier : then we crost To a livelier land ; and so by tilth and grange , And vines , and blowing bosks of wilderness , We gain'd the mother - city thick with towers , And in the imperial palace found the king . His ...
Side 41
... fly , And snared the squirrel of the glen ? are you That Psyche , wont to bind my throbbing brow , To smoothe my pillow , mix the foaming draught Of fever , tell me pleasant tales , and read ] My sickness down to happy dreams ? are you ...
... fly , And snared the squirrel of the glen ? are you That Psyche , wont to bind my throbbing brow , To smoothe my pillow , mix the foaming draught Of fever , tell me pleasant tales , and read ] My sickness down to happy dreams ? are you ...
Side 42
... flying while you sat beside the well ? The creature laid his muzzle on your lap , And sobb'd , and you sobb'd with it , and the blood Was sprinkled on your kirtle , and you wept . That was fawn's blood , not brother's , yet you wept . O ...
... flying while you sat beside the well ? The creature laid his muzzle on your lap , And sobb'd , and you sobb'd with it , and the blood Was sprinkled on your kirtle , and you wept . That was fawn's blood , not brother's , yet you wept . O ...
Side 48
... Fly twanging headless arrows at the hearts , Whence follows many a vacant pang ; but O With me , Sir , enter'd in the bigger boy , The Head of all the golden - shafted firm , The long - limb'd lad that had a Psyche too ; He cleft me ...
... Fly twanging headless arrows at the hearts , Whence follows many a vacant pang ; but O With me , Sir , enter'd in the bigger boy , The Head of all the golden - shafted firm , The long - limb'd lad that had a Psyche too ; He cleft me ...
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The Works of Alfred Tennyson: Idylls of the King Baron Alfred Tennyson Tennyson Ingen forhåndsvisning - 2015 |
Almindelige termer og sætninger
Annie answer'd Arac arms babe beän betwixt blow break brows call'd cataract Catullus Celt child cried Cyril dark dash'd dead dear dearest death dream dropt DUKE OF WELLINGTON eerd eyes face fair fall'n father fear fell fight fire flash'd Florian flower flying follow'd girl glory golden golden hour half hall hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven Hexameters honour ILIAD king knaws knew Lady Psyche land light Lilia live look'd lords ally maiden maids Melissa mixt morning mother moved munny night noble o'er Odin ourself palace peace Prince Princess Princess Ida proputty rode roll'd rolling rose round sang seem'd shadow shame silent song spake speak spoke star stept stood sweet talk'd tears thee thine things thou thought thro trumpet turn'd vext voice wild Willy Winter's tale woman
Populære passager
Side 196 - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. ' Forward the Light Brigade ! Charge for the guns !
Side 197 - Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon in front of them Volley'd and thunder'd ; Storm'd at with shot and shell, Boldly they rode and well, Into the jaws of Death, Into the mouth of Hell Rode the six hundred. Flash'd all their sabres bare, Flash'd as they turn'd in air Sabring the gunners there, Charging an army, while All the world wonder'd ; Plunged in the battery-smoke Right thro' the line they broke; Cossack and Russian Reel'd from the sabre-stroke Shatter'd and sunder'd.
Side 270 - FLOWER in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower — but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is.
Side 160 - Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font: The fire-fly wakens: waken thou with me. Now droops the milkwhite peacock like a ghost. And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open untD me.
Side 285 - O YOU chorus of indolent reviewers, Irresponsible, indolent reviewers, Look, I come to the test, a tiny poem All composed in a metre of Catullus, All in quantity, careful of my motion, Like the skater on ice that hardly bears him, Lest I fall unawares before the people, Waking laughter in indolent reviewers. Should I flounder awhile without a tumble Thro...
Side 179 - BURY the Great Duke With an empire's lamentation, Let us bury the Great Duke To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation, Mourning when their leaders fall, Warriors carry the warrior's pall, And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall.
Side 71 - The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dyin£, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Side 33 - O lift your natures up: Embrace our aims : work out your freedom. Girls, Knowledge is now no more a fountain seal'd : Drink deep, until the habits of the slave. The sins of emptiness, gossip and spite And slander, die. Better not be at all Than not be noble.
Side 225 - ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay? Proputty, proputty, proputty — that's what I 'ears 'em saay. Proputty, proputty, proputty — Sam, thou's an ass for thy paai'ns : Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs nor in all thy braai'ns.
Side 265 - Glory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, to right the wrong — Nay, but she aim'd not at glory, no lover of glory she : Give her the glory of going on, and still to be.