Cyclopædia of English literature, Том 21844 |
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Стр. ix
... Wish , 322 Durandarte and Belerma , 376 On a Tear , 322 Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogine , 377 WILLIAM WORdsworth , Sonnets ( London , 1802 , & c . ) , 322 The Helmsman , 378 325 The Hours , 378 Lines ( My heart leaps up when I ...
... Wish , 322 Durandarte and Belerma , 376 On a Tear , 322 Alonzo the Brave and the Fair Imogine , 377 WILLIAM WORdsworth , Sonnets ( London , 1802 , & c . ) , 322 The Helmsman , 378 325 The Hours , 378 Lines ( My heart leaps up when I ...
Стр. 5
... wish uncrowned . E'en the lag flesh Rests , too , in hope of meeting once again Its better half , never to sunder more . Nor shall it hope in vain : the time draws on When not a single spot of burial earth , Whether on land , or in the ...
... wish uncrowned . E'en the lag flesh Rests , too , in hope of meeting once again Its better half , never to sunder more . Nor shall it hope in vain : the time draws on When not a single spot of burial earth , Whether on land , or in the ...
Стр. 8
... wish , ' Tis later with the wise than he's aware : A Wilmington1 goes slower than the sun : And all mankind mistake ... wishes freighted ! yet even these , Freighted with all their wishes , soon complain ; Free from misfortune , not from ...
... wish , ' Tis later with the wise than he's aware : A Wilmington1 goes slower than the sun : And all mankind mistake ... wishes freighted ! yet even these , Freighted with all their wishes , soon complain ; Free from misfortune , not from ...
Стр. 10
... wish him back ; Life we think long and short ; death seek and shun . Oh the dark days of vanity ! while Here , how tasteless ! and how terrible when gone ! Gone they ne'er go ; when past , they haunt us still : The spirit walks of every ...
... wish him back ; Life we think long and short ; death seek and shun . Oh the dark days of vanity ! while Here , how tasteless ! and how terrible when gone ! Gone they ne'er go ; when past , they haunt us still : The spirit walks of every ...
Стр. 11
... wish , As duteous sons , our fathers were more wise . At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty , and reforms his plan ; At fifty chides his infamous delay , Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; In all the magnanimity ...
... wish , As duteous sons , our fathers were more wise . At thirty man suspects himself a fool ; Knows it at forty , and reforms his plan ; At fifty chides his infamous delay , Pushes his prudent purpose to resolve ; In all the magnanimity ...
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Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and ..., Том 2 Robert Chambers Полный просмотр - 1844 |
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
ancient appeared beauty beneath blank verse breast breath bright character charms clouds Colonsay dark dear death deep delight Dr Johnson earth England fair fame fancy father fear feel flowers genius grace grave green hand happy hast hear heard heart heaven hill honour hope Horace Walpole hour human king labour Lady light live look Lord Lord Byron lyre mind moral morning mountains mourn muse native nature never night o'er pain passion peace pleasure poem poet poetical poetry praise pride published racter rill Rodmond round scene Scotland seems shade sigh Sir Walter Scott sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stream style sublime sweet taste tears tender thee thou thought tion Tom Jones Twas uncle Toby vale verse virtue voice wandering wave wild wind young youth
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Стр. 410 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him.
Стр. 32 - 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 hallowed 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 gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.
Стр. 398 - I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noonday dreams. From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun. I wield the flail of the lashing hail, And whiten the green plains under, And then again I dissolve it in rain, And laugh as I pass in thunder.
Стр. 327 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Стр. 56 - Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, "Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn...
Стр. 340 - Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And, having once turned round, walks on, And turns no more his head, Because he knows a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread.
Стр. 219 - In thoughts from the visions of the night, When deep sleep falleth on men, Fear came upon me, and trembling, Which made all my bones to shake. Then a spirit passed before my face; The hair of my flesh stood up: It stood still, but I could not discern the form thereof: An image was before mine eyes, There was silence, and I heard a voice, saying, Shall mortal man be more just than God?
Стр. 406 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket...
Стр. 327 - For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man...
Стр. 406 - Darkling I listen ; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, — Called 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.