The beauties of modern British poetry, systematically arranged by D. Grant

الغلاف الأمامي
David Grant (of Aberdeen)
1871
 

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الصفحة 282 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied GOD ! The rolling year Is full of Thee, Forth in the pleasing Spring Thy beauty walks, Thy tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart, is joy.
الصفحة 351 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony ; And his droop'd head sinks gradually low ; And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder shower ; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
الصفحة 328 - And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war ; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar.
الصفحة 363 - Snatch from the ashes of your sires The embers of their former fires; And he who in the strife expires Will add to theirs a name of fear That Tyranny shall quake to hear, And leave his sons a hope, a fame, They too will rather die than shame: For Freedom's battle once begun, Bequeathed by bleeding Sire to Son, Though baffled oft is ever won.
الصفحة 237 - Darkling, I listen ; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
الصفحة 233 - What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields or waves or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? what ignorance of pain? With thy clear keen joyance Languor cannot be; Shadow of annoyance Never came near thee; Thou lovest — but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
الصفحة 46 - 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 119 - 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 311 - Over earth and ocean with gentle motion This pilot is guiding me, Lured by the love of the genii that move In the depths of the purple sea ; Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills, Over the lakes and the plains, Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream, The Spirit he loves remains ; And I all the while bask in heaven's blue smile, Whilst he is dissolving in rains. The sanguine sunrise, with his meteor eyes, And his burning plumes outspread...
الصفحة 359 - KNOW ye the land where the cypress and myrtle Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime? Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime...

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