The Select Poetical WorksPhillips & Sampson, 1848 - 406 sider |
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Side 19
... rolling moon On Alva's casques of silver played ; And viewed at midnight's silent noon , Her chiefs in gleaming mail arrayed : And on the crimson rocks beneath , Which scroll o'er ocean's sullen flow , Pale in the scattered ranks of ...
... rolling moon On Alva's casques of silver played ; And viewed at midnight's silent noon , Her chiefs in gleaming mail arrayed : And on the crimson rocks beneath , Which scroll o'er ocean's sullen flow , Pale in the scattered ranks of ...
Side 20
... roll the crimson tide of war . But who was last of Alva's clan ? Why grows the moss on Alva's stone ? Her towers resound no steps of man , They echo to the gale alone . And when that gale is fierce and high , A sound is heard in yonder ...
... roll the crimson tide of war . But who was last of Alva's clan ? Why grows the moss on Alva's stone ? Her towers resound no steps of man , They echo to the gale alone . And when that gale is fierce and high , A sound is heard in yonder ...
Side 27
... rolling eye ; " Thy Oscar's fate I fain would learn ; Perhaps the hero did not die . " Perchance , if those whom he most loved , Would call , thy Oscar might return ; Perchance the chief has only roved ; For him thy Beltane yet may burn ...
... rolling eye ; " Thy Oscar's fate I fain would learn ; Perhaps the hero did not die . " Perchance , if those whom he most loved , Would call , thy Oscar might return ; Perchance the chief has only roved ; For him thy Beltane yet may burn ...
Side 28
... roll , from pole to pole , The thunders through the welkin ring , And the gleaming form , through the mist of the storm , Was borne on high by the whirlwind's wing . Cold was the feast , the revel ceased : Who 28 HOURS OF IDLENESS .
... roll , from pole to pole , The thunders through the welkin ring , And the gleaming form , through the mist of the storm , Was borne on high by the whirlwind's wing . Cold was the feast , the revel ceased : Who 28 HOURS OF IDLENESS .
Side 32
... roll , That well - emblazoned but neglected scroll , Where lords , unhonored , in the tomb may find One spot , to leave a worthless name behind . There sleep , unnoticed as the gloomy vaults That veil their dust , their follies , and ...
... roll , That well - emblazoned but neglected scroll , Where lords , unhonored , in the tomb may find One spot , to leave a worthless name behind . There sleep , unnoticed as the gloomy vaults That veil their dust , their follies , and ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
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
Populære passager
Side 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?
Side 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.
Side 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...
Side 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.
Side 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.
Side 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!
Side 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!
Side 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
Side 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.
Side 214 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail...