Patriotic Song: A Book of English Verse : Being an Anthology of the Patriotic Poetry of the British Empire from the Defeat of the Spanish Armada Till the Death of Queen VictoriaPearson, 1901 - 363 من الصفحات |
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النتائج 6-10 من 39
الصفحة 56
... leave this Normandy , And live on yon beautiful island . ' Says he , ' ' Tis a snug little island : Sha'n't us go visit the island ? ' Hop , skip , and jump , there he was plump , And he kick'd up a dust in the island . But party ...
... leave this Normandy , And live on yon beautiful island . ' Says he , ' ' Tis a snug little island : Sha'n't us go visit the island ? ' Hop , skip , and jump , there he was plump , And he kick'd up a dust in the island . But party ...
الصفحة 64
... LEAVING ENGLAND ONCE more upon the waters ! Yet once more ! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider . Welcome to their roar ! Swift be their guidance , wheresoe'er it lead ! Though the strained mast should quiver ...
... LEAVING ENGLAND ONCE more upon the waters ! Yet once more ! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider . Welcome to their roar ! Swift be their guidance , wheresoe'er it lead ! Though the strained mast should quiver ...
الصفحة 65
... leave behind The inviolate Island of the sage and free , And seek me out a home by a remoter sea , Perhaps I loved it well ; and should I lay My ashes in a soil which is not mine , My Spirit shall resume it — if we may Unbodied choose a ...
... leave behind The inviolate Island of the sage and free , And seek me out a home by a remoter sea , Perhaps I loved it well ; and should I lay My ashes in a soil which is not mine , My Spirit shall resume it — if we may Unbodied choose a ...
الصفحة 67
... Leave battles to the Turkish hordes , And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! Hark ! rising to the ignoble call— How answers each bold Bacchanal ! Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! Our virgins dance beneath the shade- I see their ...
... Leave battles to the Turkish hordes , And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! Hark ! rising to the ignoble call— How answers each bold Bacchanal ! Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! Our virgins dance beneath the shade- I see their ...
الصفحة 69
... leaves , Dewy with Nature's tear - drops , as they pass- Grieving , if aught inanimate e'er grieves , Over the unreturning brave , -alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them , but above shall grow In its ...
... leaves , Dewy with Nature's tear - drops , as they pass- Grieving , if aught inanimate e'er grieves , Over the unreturning brave , -alas ! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them , but above shall grow In its ...
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طبعات أخرى - عرض جميع المقتطفات
عبارات ومصطلحات مألوفة
Algernon Charles Swinburne battle beneath blood blow Bonnie Dundee boys brave breath breeze Britain bugles burning carries the gun Charlie cheer crown Dark Rosaleen dead dear death deep earth England English eyes face fair fame farewell Felicia Hemans fight flag Flag of England flower fought frae gallant glorious glory grave green grey hame hand hath hear heard heart hearts of oak heroes Highland Highland laddie hills honour Irish island Isle John Kells Ingram Kenmure's King land light live Lochaber lonely Lord loud mighty morning mother ne'er never night o'er ocean peace permission of author Poems pride proud Robert Burns round sail Samian wine shine ships shore sing sleep soldier song sons soul sound spirit stand sweet sword tears thee There's thine Thomas Moore thou voice warriors waves weep wild William Wordsworth wind
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة 180 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha, for Scotland's King and Law, Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Free-man stand, or Free-man fa', Let him on wi
الصفحة 17 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : And thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, — when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble...
الصفحة 88 - Forward, the Light Brigade ! Charge for the guns ! ' he said ; Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. ' Forward, the Light Brigade...
الصفحة 60 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy winds do blow! When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn; Till danger's troubled night depart And the star of peace return. Then, then, ye ocean warriors ! Our song and feast shall flow To the fame of your name, When the storm has ceased to blow!
الصفحة 47 - It is not to be thought of that the Flood Of British freedom, which, to the open sea Of the world's praise, from dark antiquity Hath flowed, "with pomp of waters, unwithstood," Roused though it be full often to a mood Which spurns the check of salutary bands That this most famous Stream in bogs and sands Should perish; and to evil and to good Be lost for ever. In our halls is hung Armoury of the invincible Knights of old: We must be free or die, who speak the tongue That Shakspeare spake; the faith...
الصفحة 94 - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
الصفحة 211 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose...
الصفحة 24 - CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed...
الصفحة 14 - From camp to camp through the foul womb of night The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fixed sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
الصفحة 214 - THE harp that once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise, Now feel that pulse no more...