Sketches of the Poetical Literature of the Past Half-centuryW. Blackwood and Sons, 1856 - 335 من الصفحات |
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الصفحة 35
... thou remain'st alone- Wilt thou , still partial to thy youthful flame , Regard the turf where first I carved thy name , And think thy wanderer , far beyond the sea , False to his heart , was ever true to thee ? Ah ! spare that tearful ...
... thou remain'st alone- Wilt thou , still partial to thy youthful flame , Regard the turf where first I carved thy name , And think thy wanderer , far beyond the sea , False to his heart , was ever true to thee ? Ah ! spare that tearful ...
الصفحة 36
... thou canst not see my woe ; For , sad as he that dies in early spring , When flowers begin to blow , and birds to sing , When Nature's joy a moment warms the heart , And makes it doubly hard from life to part , I hear the whispers of ...
... thou canst not see my woe ; For , sad as he that dies in early spring , When flowers begin to blow , and birds to sing , When Nature's joy a moment warms the heart , And makes it doubly hard from life to part , I hear the whispers of ...
الصفحة 58
... thou , O Briton ! doomed , perhaps , to roam An exile many a year , and far from home , If ever fortune thy lone footsteps leads To the wild Dnieper's banks and whispering reeds , O'er Howard's grave thou shalt impassion'd bend , As if ...
... thou , O Briton ! doomed , perhaps , to roam An exile many a year , and far from home , If ever fortune thy lone footsteps leads To the wild Dnieper's banks and whispering reeds , O'er Howard's grave thou shalt impassion'd bend , As if ...
الصفحة 89
... thou and I were one ; I'll think it but a fond deceit — It cannot be that thou art gone ; Thy vesper - bell hath not yet toll'd , And thou wert aye a masquer bold ; What strange disguise hast now put on , To make believe that thou art ...
... thou and I were one ; I'll think it but a fond deceit — It cannot be that thou art gone ; Thy vesper - bell hath not yet toll'd , And thou wert aye a masquer bold ; What strange disguise hast now put on , To make believe that thou art ...
الصفحة 125
... Thou , long - suffering , slow to wrath , A burning and a shining light ! Our harps we left by Babel's streams , The tyrant's jest , the Gentile's scorn ; No censer round our altar beams , And mute our timbrel , trump , and horn . But Thou ...
... Thou , long - suffering , slow to wrath , A burning and a shining light ! Our harps we left by Babel's streams , The tyrant's jest , the Gentile's scorn ; No censer round our altar beams , And mute our timbrel , trump , and horn . But Thou ...
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عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
admiration alike Allan Cunningham amid ballads Barry Cornwall beauty bright Burns Byron Campbell canto characteristic Childe clouds Coleridge composition Crabbe dark delight dream earth Ebenezer Elliot elegance excellence exquisite fancy feeling finest flowers Furness Abbey genius gentle Giaour glowing grace hand hath heart heaven Hogg human imagery imagination Isle of Palms James Hogg Joanna Baillie Keats Kilmeny Leigh Hunt less light literature look Lord Lord Byron manner Milton mind Moore morning mountains nature never night o'er Oriana original passages passion pathos peculiar picturesque poem poet poetical poetry Prisoner of Chillon regarded Sally Brown scarcely scenes Scott Scottish seemed sentiment Shelley song Southey spirit stanzas star style sublime sweet taste tenderness thee Theodore Hook things Thomas Thomas Aird Thomas Hood thou thought tion tone touches Twas verse wild Wilson wonderful Wordsworth writings young
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الصفحة 251 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn : He never came a wink too soon, Nor brought too long a day, But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
الصفحة 157 - Prayer is the burden of a sigh, The falling of a tear ; The upward glancing of an eye, When none but God is near.
الصفحة 180 - Brightest and best of the sons of the morning ! Dawn on our darkness, and lend us thine aid; Star of the East! the horizon adorning, Guide where our infant Redeemer is laid...
الصفحة 86 - 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.
الصفحة 283 - Do ye hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years? They are leaning their young heads against their mothers, And that cannot stop their tears. The young lambs are bleating in the meadows, The young birds are chirping in the nest, The young fawns are playing with the shadows, The young flowers are blowing toward the west But the young, young children, O my brothers, They are weeping bitterly ! They are weeping in the playtime of the others, In the country of the free.
الصفحة 65 - There was a roaring in the wind all night; The rain came heavily and fell in floods; But now the sun is rising calm and bright; The birds are singing in the distant woods; Over his own sweet voice the Stock-dove broods; The Jay makes answer as the Magpie chatters; And all the air is filled with pleasant noise of waters.
الصفحة 252 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing ; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir-trees dark and high ; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky : It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from Heaven Than when I was a boy.
الصفحة 95 - They sin who tell us Love can die. With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell, Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell ; Earthly these passions of the Earth, They perish where they have their birth ; But Love is indestructible. Its holy flame for ever burneth, From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth...
الصفحة 224 - Saturn, quiet as a stone, Still as the silence round about his lair; Forest on forest hung about his head Like cloud on cloud. No stir of air was there, Not so much life as on a summer's day Robs not one light seed from the feather'd grass, But where the dead leaf fell, there did it rest.
الصفحة 217 - De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous lively dame, With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always...