The West Indies, and Other PoemsLongman, Hurst, Rees & Orme, 1810 - Всего страниц: 160 |
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Стр. 10
... . But themes like these would ask an angel - lyre , Language of light and sentiment of fire ; Give me to sing , in melancholy strains , Of Charib martyrdoms and negro chains ; One race by tyrants rooted from the earth , One 10.
... . But themes like these would ask an angel - lyre , Language of light and sentiment of fire ; Give me to sing , in melancholy strains , Of Charib martyrdoms and negro chains ; One race by tyrants rooted from the earth , One 10.
Стр. 58
... lyre and lute belong , Whose song of freedom is her noblest song , The lyre with awful indignation swept , O'er the sweet lute in silent sorrow wept , -When Albion's crimes drew thunder from her tongue , -When Afric's woes o'erwhelm'd ...
... lyre and lute belong , Whose song of freedom is her noblest song , The lyre with awful indignation swept , O'er the sweet lute in silent sorrow wept , -When Albion's crimes drew thunder from her tongue , -When Afric's woes o'erwhelm'd ...
Стр. 84
... impatient to complain , Are dumb , or only utter moans . And yet to sooth the mind With luxury of grief , The soul to suffering all resign'd In Sorrow's music feels relief . Thus o'er the light Æolian lyre The winds of dark 84.
... impatient to complain , Are dumb , or only utter moans . And yet to sooth the mind With luxury of grief , The soul to suffering all resign'd In Sorrow's music feels relief . Thus o'er the light Æolian lyre The winds of dark 84.
Стр. 85
James Montgomery. Thus o'er the light Æolian lyre The winds of dark November stray , Touch the quick nerve of every wire , And on its magic pulses play ; - Till all the air around , Mysterious murmurs fill , A strange bewildering dream ...
James Montgomery. Thus o'er the light Æolian lyre The winds of dark November stray , Touch the quick nerve of every wire , And on its magic pulses play ; - Till all the air around , Mysterious murmurs fill , A strange bewildering dream ...
Стр. 90
... At length the axe assail'd it : It bow'd before the woodman's rage ; € -The swans of Thames bewail'd it , With softer tones , with sweeter breath , Than ever charm'd the ear of death . O POPE ! hadst thou , whose lyre so long 90.
... At length the axe assail'd it : It bow'd before the woodman's rage ; € -The swans of Thames bewail'd it , With softer tones , with sweeter breath , Than ever charm'd the ear of death . O POPE ! hadst thou , whose lyre so long 90.
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Adorn'd Africa age to age anguish beauty behold beneath Bilberries blest bloom BOLEHILL breast breath Casas Charibbean clime Cowslip Creole Planter dark death Derbyshire Dr Pinkard's Notes Dutch Guiana earth eternal fields and woods final doom fire flood flowers forelock o'er glory grave Greenland gulph heart heaven hope hyæna isles joys kiss her tripping light little neck lyre midst milk-maid's path Moravian Brethren morn mountains Mungo Parke Nature's graceful hand Negro night O'er coppice o'er his mane o'er pasture land path they stand peace plains race rest rience roll'd round Scatter'd by Nature's scene scythe shade shine shore skies Slave Trade smiled song soul Spain spirit Spring spurn'd star stoops his little sublime suffering Surinam surse sweet thee thine thou tomb Tossing his forelock trees turn'd vernal voice waves West Indies Where'er wild Willow wind winter's farm-yard bondage woes yellow fever
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Стр. 32 - Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole; For in this land of heaven's peculiar grace, The heritage of nature's noblest race, There is a spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest...
Стр. 31 - The wandering mariner, whose eye explores The wealthiest isles, the most enchanting shores, Views not a realm so bountiful and fair, Nor breathes the spirit of a purer air ; In every clime the magnet of his soul, Touched by remembrance, trembles to that pole...
Стр. 79 - Molian lyre The winds of dark November stray, Touch the quick nerve of every wire, And on its magic pulses play ;— Till all the air around, Mysterious murmurs fill, A strange bewildering dream of sound, Most heavenly sweet, — yet mournful still.
Стр. 33 - An angel-guard of loves and graces lie ; Around her knees domestic duties meet, And fireside pleasures gambol at her feet. " Where shall that land, that spot of earth be found ?" Art thou a man ? — a patriot ? — look around ; Oh, thou shalt find, howe'er thy footsteps roam, That land thy country, and that spot thy home...
Стр. 7 - Soft fell the shades, till Cynthia's slender bow Crested the farthest wave, then sunk below: "Tell me, resplendent guardian of the night, Circling the sphere in thy perennial flight, What secret path of heaven thy smiles adorn, What nameless sea reflects thy gleaming horn ?
Стр. 34 - Man, through all ages of revolving time, Unchanging man, in every varying clime, Deems his own land of every land the pride, Beloved by Heaven o'er all the world beside ; His home the spot of earth supremely blest, A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.
Стр. 102 - The wind that wanders o'er this tomb Was once his vital breath. The roving wind shall pass away, The warming sun forsake the sky ; Thy Brother, in that dreadful day, Shall live, — and never die. THE OLD MAN'S SONG. SHALL Man of frail fruition boast ? Shall life be counted dear, Oft but a moment, and, at most, A momentary year ? There...
Стр. 104 - JELL me, thou dust beneath my feet, Thou dust that once hadst breath ! Tell me how many mortals meet In this small hill of death ? The Mole, that scoops with curious toil Her subterranean bed, Thinks not she ploughs a human soil, And mines among the dead.
Стр. 42 - His frame, — a fungus form, of dunghill birth, That taints the air, and rots above the earth ; His soul ; — has he a soul, whose sensual breast Of selfish passions is a serpent's nest ? Who follows headlong, ignorant, and blind, The vague...
Стр. 125 - HE sought his sire from shore to shore, He sought him day by day ; The prow he track'd was seen no more, Breasting the ocean-spray ; Yet, as the winds his voyage sped, He sail'd above his father's head, Unconscious where it lay, Deep, deep beneath the rolling main ; - — He sought his sire ; he sought in vain. Son of the brave ! no longer weep ; Still with affection true, Along...