The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, 1850 - Всего страниц: 177 |
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Стр. 6
... . But while they talk'd , above their heads I saw The feudal warrior lady - clad ; which brought My book to mind and opening this I read Of old Sir Ralph a page or two that rang With tilt and tourney ; then the tale of her 6 PROLOGUE .
... . But while they talk'd , above their heads I saw The feudal warrior lady - clad ; which brought My book to mind and opening this I read Of old Sir Ralph a page or two that rang With tilt and tourney ; then the tale of her 6 PROLOGUE .
Стр. 35
... mind : Musician , painter , sculptor , critic , more : And everywhere the broad and bounteous Earth Should bear a double growth of those rare souls , Poets , whose thoughts enrich the blood of the world . ' She ended here , and beckon'd ...
... mind : Musician , painter , sculptor , critic , more : And everywhere the broad and bounteous Earth Should bear a double growth of those rare souls , Poets , whose thoughts enrich the blood of the world . ' She ended here , and beckon'd ...
Стр. 45
... That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle for ever : then we dipt in all That treats of whatsoever is , the state , The total chronicles of man , the mind , The morals , something of the frame , the rock A MEDLEY . 45.
... That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle for ever : then we dipt in all That treats of whatsoever is , the state , The total chronicles of man , the mind , The morals , something of the frame , the rock A MEDLEY . 45.
Стр. 56
... mind in all things : yet my mother still Affirms your Psyche thieved her theories , And angled with them for her pupil's love : She calls her plagiarist ; I know not what : But I must go I dare not tarry ' and light As flies the shadow ...
... mind in all things : yet my mother still Affirms your Psyche thieved her theories , And angled with them for her pupil's love : She calls her plagiarist ; I know not what : But I must go I dare not tarry ' and light As flies the shadow ...
Стр. 77
... mind us of the time When we made bricks in Egypt . Knaves are men , That lute and flute fantastic tenderness , And dress the victim to the offering up , And paint the gates of Hell with Paradise , And play the slave to gain the tyranny ...
... mind us of the time When we made bricks in Egypt . Knaves are men , That lute and flute fantastic tenderness , And dress the victim to the offering up , And paint the gates of Hell with Paradise , And play the slave to gain the tyranny ...
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ALFRED TENNYSON answer'd Arac arms ask'd babe betwixt Blow bosom boys breast breathe broken brother brows call'd cataract cheek child cried Cyril dark dash'd daughter dead dear death dipt dream dropt dying enemies have fall'n enter'd eyes face fair father fear fell fixt Florian flying follow'd gain'd gazing girl glance glowworm half hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven king kiss'd knew Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land laugh'd light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa morning mother moved night noble o'er once ourselves palace peace Prince Princess Psyche's rapt rode roll'd rose sang seem'd shame shook smile song soul spake speak spoke star stept stood sweet Sweet and low Sweet dream talk'd tears tender thee thou thought thro touch'd troth True woman trumpet turn'd vext voice wild winter's tale woman women
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Стр. 70 - THE splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Стр. 70 - O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky. They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul. And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
Стр. 72 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Стр. 51 - SWEET and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Стр. 163 - And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him; by the happy threshold, he, Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, Or red with spirted purple of the vats, Or foxlike in the vine ; nor cares to walk With Death and Morning on the silver horns, Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine, Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice, That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : But follow; let the torrent dance...
Стр. 26 - As thro' the land at eve we went, And pluck'd the ripen'd ears, We fell out, my wife and I, O we fell out I know not why, And kiss'd again with tears. And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears! For when we came where lies the child We lost in other years, There above the little grave, O there above the little grave, We kiss'd again with tears.
Стр. 73 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Стр. 73 - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!
Стр. 159 - Glowing all over noble shame ; and all Her falser self slipt from her like a robe, And left her woman, lovelier in her mood Than in her mould that other, when she came From barren deeps to conquer all with love...
Стр. 110 - Man is the hunter ; woman is his game : The sleek and shining creatures of the chase, We hunt them for the beauty of their skins ; They love us for it, and we ride them down.