The Wreath: A Collection of Poems from Celebrated English AuthorsSilas Andrus, 1824 - 243 من الصفحات |
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
agen aspiring air beatific beneath blest bliss bloom bosom breast breath call'd calm charms cheer clouds dark Death deep degra dost dread e'er earth Edwin eternal ev'n eyes fair fame fancy fate fear fire flame forlorn gale gentle gloomy glory grave Greece groves hand heart Heaven Hermit horror hour Indolence light lonely lov'd love lies bleeding lyre mind monarch morn mountains mourn Muse Musidora nature Nature's ne'er never night nought o'er pain peace Philomela pity plain pleasure praise pride rage rills rise round Rous'd rude scene seem'd seraph shade shore sigh skies sleep smil'd smile soft song sooth sorrow soul sound spleen Stamp'd strain stream sublime sweet tears tempest thee thine thou thro toil trembling Twas vale vext virtue voice wandering wave weary ween Whate'er wild wings wretch youth
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 180 - Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast where'er we roam ; His first, best country, ever is at home. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, And estimate the blessings which they share, Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find An equal portion dealt to all mankind : As different good, by art or nature given To different nations, makes their blessings even.
الصفحة 128 - E'en in our Ashes live their wonted Fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed Swain may say, "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away To meet the sun upon the upland lawn.
الصفحة 226 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny : You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face ; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
الصفحة 166 - The impetuous song, and say from whom you rage. His praise, ye brooks, attune, ye trembling rills; And let me catch it as I muse along. Ye headlong torrents, rapid and profound; Ye softer floods, that lead the humid maze Along the vale; and thou, majestic main, A secret world of wonders in thyself, Sound His stupendous praise, whose greater voice Or bids you roar, or bids your roarings fall.
الصفحة 125 - Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands that the rod of empire might have swayed, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre...
الصفحة 128 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree ; Another came : nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he : The next, with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne, — Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
الصفحة 102 - A solemn, strange, and mingled air : 'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild. But thou, O Hope ! with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure ! Still it whisper'd promis'd pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail...
الصفحة 124 - 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 ; Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such, as wand'ring near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign.
الصفحة 166 - Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence The fair profusion that o'erspreads the spring ; Flings from the sun direct the flaming day; Feeds every creature; hurls the tempest forth ; And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, With transport touches all the springs of life.
الصفحة 165 - Shoots full perfection through the swelling year; And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks: And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In Winter awful thou ! with clouds and storms Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing ' Riding sublime, thou bid'st the world adore, And humblest nature with thy northern blast.