The Book of Georgian Verse, Том 1William Stanley Braithwaite Grant Richards, 1909 - Всего страниц: 1313 |
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Стр. 20
... breathing gales O'er the ocean and the vales , While the vessel calmly glides O'er the level glassy tides , While the summer flowers are springing , And the new - fledged birds are singing . ON Ode to Leven Water A. Philips N Leven's ...
... breathing gales O'er the ocean and the vales , While the vessel calmly glides O'er the level glassy tides , While the summer flowers are springing , And the new - fledged birds are singing . ON Ode to Leven Water A. Philips N Leven's ...
Стр. 50
... and clean , Gar ilka thing look braw ; For wha can tell how Colin fared , When he was far awa ' ? Sae true his heart , sae smooth his speech , His breath like caller air ; 43 . His very foot has music in't As he 50 THE BOOK OF.
... and clean , Gar ilka thing look braw ; For wha can tell how Colin fared , When he was far awa ' ? Sae true his heart , sae smooth his speech , His breath like caller air ; 43 . His very foot has music in't As he 50 THE BOOK OF.
Стр. 57
... breath , Which in her praise had sweetly sung : And sever'd was that beauteous neck , Round which her arms had fondly clos'd : And mangled was that beauteous breast , On which her love - sick head repos'd : And ravish'd was that ...
... breath , Which in her praise had sweetly sung : And sever'd was that beauteous neck , Round which her arms had fondly clos'd : And mangled was that beauteous breast , On which her love - sick head repos'd : And ravish'd was that ...
Стр. 76
... breath , Till his four quarters are bedeckit Wi ' gude Braid Claith . On Sabbath - days the barber spark , Whan he has done wi ' scrapin wark Wi ' siller broachie in his sark , Gangs trigly , faith ! Or to the Meadows or the Park , In ...
... breath , Till his four quarters are bedeckit Wi ' gude Braid Claith . On Sabbath - days the barber spark , Whan he has done wi ' scrapin wark Wi ' siller broachie in his sark , Gangs trigly , faith ! Or to the Meadows or the Park , In ...
Стр. 89
... breath to draw , And dance , till we be like to fa ' , The reel o ' Tullochgorum . What needs there be sae great a fraise Wi ' dringin ' , dull Italian lays ? I wadna gi'e our ain strathspeys For half a hunder score o ' them . They're ...
... breath to draw , And dance , till we be like to fa ' , The reel o ' Tullochgorum . What needs there be sae great a fraise Wi ' dringin ' , dull Italian lays ? I wadna gi'e our ain strathspeys For half a hunder score o ' them . They're ...
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Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
Arethusa auld auld lang syne baloo beauty beneath bird bless bloom bonnie Bonny Dundee bosom bower braes breast breath bright Brignall busk canna charms cheek dance dark dead dear death doth dream e'en e'er earth eyes fair fear flowers frae grave green ha'e hame hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hills hour Inchcape Rock Kilmeny lady land lass lassie light lo'e look Lord Lord Byron loud maid maun moon morning ne'er never night o'er pain pale R. B. Sheridan rill rose round S. T. Coleridge shade sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit sweet tears tell thee There's thine thou art thought thro tree Twas voice W. S. Landor Warwickshire waves weel weep wild wind wings wyfe Yarrow youth
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 843 - My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky: So was it when my life began ; So is it now I am a man ; So be it when I shall grow old, Or let me die! The child is father of the man; And I could wish my days to be Bound each to each by natural piety.
Стр. 962 - Ye mariners of England That guard our native seas ! Whose flag has braved a thousand years, The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe: And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy winds do blow.
Стр. 573 - 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. Waking or asleep Thou of death must deem Things more true and deep Than we mortals dream — Or how could thy notes flow in such a crystal stream?
Стр. 1153 - That Light whose smile kindles the Universe, That Beauty in which all things work and move, That Benediction which the eclipsing Curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst; now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Стр. 223 - The noisy geese that gabbled o'er the pool, The playful children just let loose from school; The watchdog's voice that bayed the whispering wind, And the loud laugh that spoke the vacant mind; These all in sweet confusion sought the shade, And filled each pause the nightingale had made.
Стр. 607 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Стр. 570 - Hail to thee, blithe Spirit! Bird thou never wert, That from Heaven, or near it, Pourest thy full heart In profuse strains of unpremeditated art. Higher still and higher From the earth thou springest Like a cloud of fire; The blue deep thou wingest, And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.
Стр. 937 - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Стр. 1083 - 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.
Стр. 169 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their Country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallow'd mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung, By forms unseen their dirge is sung: There Honour comes, a pilgrim grey, To bless the turf that wraps their clay; And Freedom shall awhile repair To dwell a weeping hermit there!