 Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale...  Poetical Quotations from Chaucer to Tennyson - الصفحة 617بواسطة Samuel Austin Allibone - 1878 - عدد الصفحات: 772عرض كامل - لمحة عن هذا الكتاب
 | Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - عدد الصفحات: 1022
...scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, [kill; And plant fresh laurels where they But their strong nerves at last must yield — They...breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow — Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar,... | |
 | Henry Stebbing - 1832 - عدد الصفحات: 378
...made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field. And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves...or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murm'ring breath, When they pale captives creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1833 - عدد الصفحات: 594
...made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves...breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow ; Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon death's purple altar... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1833 - عدد الصفحات: 586
...made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves...breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow ; Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon death's purple altar... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray IV, Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1833 - عدد الصفحات: 596
...made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves...breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow ; Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon death's purple altar... | |
 | James Shirley - 1833 - عدد الصفحات: 540
...made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves...breath , When they, pale captives, creep to death . The garlands wither on your brow, Tften boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon Death's purple altar... | |
 | Andrews Norton, Charles Folsom - 1833 - عدد الصفحات: 528
...With the poor crooked scythe and spade. " Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves...breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. " The garlands wither on your brow ; Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon death's purple altar... | |
 | Andrews Norton, Charles Folsom - 1833 - عدد الصفحات: 518
...made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. "Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves...breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. " The garlands wither on your brow ; Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon dentil's purple altar... | |
 | 1835 - عدد الصفحات: 384
[ عذرًا، محتوى هذه الصفحة مقيَّد ] | |
 | England - 1835 - عدد الصفحات: 794
...made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. ! Some men with swords may reap the field And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves...to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, Wheu they, pale captives, creep to death. * Percy reads " birth." The garlands wither on your brow,... | |
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