English poetry, for use in the schools of the Collegiate institution, Liverpool [ed. by W. J. Conybeare].1844 |
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الصفحة 13
... look From either squire ! but spurred amain , And , dashing through the battle - plain , His way to Surrey took . : - -The good Lord Marmion , by my life ! Welcome to danger's hour ! Short greeting serves in time of strife : Thus have I ...
... look From either squire ! but spurred amain , And , dashing through the battle - plain , His way to Surrey took . : - -The good Lord Marmion , by my life ! Welcome to danger's hour ! Short greeting serves in time of strife : Thus have I ...
الصفحة 14
... look up ! on Flodden bent , The Scottish foe has fired his tent . " And sudden , as he spoke , From the sharp ridges of the hill , All downward to the banks of Till , Was wreathed in sable smoke ; Volumed and vast , and rolling far ...
... look up ! on Flodden bent , The Scottish foe has fired his tent . " And sudden , as he spoke , From the sharp ridges of the hill , All downward to the banks of Till , Was wreathed in sable smoke ; Volumed and vast , and rolling far ...
الصفحة 16
... , The loose rein dangling from his head , Housing and saddle bloody red , Lord Marmion's steed rushed by ; And Eustace , maddening at the sight , A look and sign to Clara cast , To mark he would return in haste , Then plunged 16.
... , The loose rein dangling from his head , Housing and saddle bloody red , Lord Marmion's steed rushed by ; And Eustace , maddening at the sight , A look and sign to Clara cast , To mark he would return in haste , Then plunged 16.
الصفحة 20
... " So the notes rung . " Avoid thee , Fiend ! -with cruel hand , Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! O look , my son , upon yon sign Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; O think on faith and bliss ! By many a death - bed I have been , 20.
... " So the notes rung . " Avoid thee , Fiend ! -with cruel hand , Shake not the dying sinner's sand ! O look , my son , upon yon sign Of the Redeemer's grace divine ; O think on faith and bliss ! By many a death - bed I have been , 20.
الصفحة 31
... look the joyless victor sate , Revolving in his altered soul The various turns of fate below ; And now and then a sigh he stole , And tears began to flow . The mighty master smiled , to see That love was in the next degree : ' T was but ...
... look the joyless victor sate , Revolving in his altered soul The various turns of fate below ; And now and then a sigh he stole , And tears began to flow . The mighty master smiled , to see That love was in the next degree : ' T was but ...
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
amain arms array Arth battle beneath BISHOP KEN Blount Branksome Branksome Hall brave breath bright brow cease from troubling chase cheer Clare Clusium crest cried dark dead deep DIES iræ dread dust earth England's Eustace eyes fair Father fierce fight fire Fitz-Eustace Flodden foes gallant glory grave hall hand Hark hast hath head hear heard heart heaven heavenly host helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hill Holy Horatius horse host Hubert HYMN Janiculum King Lars Porsena Lartius light little prince lonely look Lord Marmion loud Mayenne Moncontour morn mountain ne'er Netherby never night o'er plain Praise rein rest rill rode rose Saint SCOTT SHAKSPERE shore shout sigh sing Skiddaw slain sleep smile song soul sound spears spirit squire stag steed tear thee thine Thou art gone Tiber toil tower voice wake weep wicked cease young Lochinvar
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 30 - Changed his hand, and check'd his pride. He chose a mournful muse, Soft pity to infuse: He sung Darius great and good! ~By too severe a fate, Fallen! fallen! fallen! fallen! Fallen from his high estate, And weltering in his blood!
الصفحة 6 - That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay? How shall he meet that dreadful day? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll, When louder yet, and yet more dread, Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ! O, on that day, that wrathful day, When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away!
الصفحة 57 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke...
الصفحة 59 - 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 1 - The way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy.
الصفحة 70 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried ; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried.
الصفحة 70 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head; And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him; But little he'll reck; if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
الصفحة 57 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene, The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden, that, with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood; Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
الصفحة 61 - On a rock, whose haughty brow, Frowns o'er old Conway's foaming flood, Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; (Loose his beard, and hoary hair Streamed, like a meteor, to the troubled air) And with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.
الصفحة 6 - HERON'S SONG. O, young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best, And save his good broadsword he weapons had none ; He rode all unarmed, and he rode all alone. So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.