The Poetical Works of Samuel RogersE.H. Butler, 1891 - Всего страниц: 451 |
Результаты поиска по книге
Результаты 1 – 5 из 78
Стр. vii
... Greek Epigram 144 A Character 144 Captivity 144 Written at Midnight To an Old Oak 165 To the Gnat 166 • To the Youngest Daughter of Lady 147 To a Voice that had been Lost 148 To the Butterfly . To *** PAGE 169 169 To.
... Greek Epigram 144 A Character 144 Captivity 144 Written at Midnight To an Old Oak 165 To the Gnat 166 • To the Youngest Daughter of Lady 147 To a Voice that had been Lost 148 To the Butterfly . To *** PAGE 169 169 To.
Стр. 23
... voice sung sweetly thro ' the shade . It ceased - yet still in Florio's fancy sung , Still on each note his captive spirit hung ; Till o'er the mead a cool , sequestered grot From its rich roof a sparry lustre shot . A crystal water ...
... voice sung sweetly thro ' the shade . It ceased - yet still in Florio's fancy sung , Still on each note his captive spirit hung ; Till o'er the mead a cool , sequestered grot From its rich roof a sparry lustre shot . A crystal water ...
Стр. 27
... voice of love . As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower Awes us less deeply in its morning - hour , Than when the shades of Time serenely fall On every broken arch and ivied wall ; The tender images we love to trace , Steal from each ...
... voice of love . As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower Awes us less deeply in its morning - hour , Than when the shades of Time serenely fall On every broken arch and ivied wall ; The tender images we love to trace , Steal from each ...
Стр. 27
... voice sung sweetly thro ' the shade . It ceased - yet still in Florio's fancy sung , Still on each note his captive spirit hung ; Till o'er the mead a cool , sequestered grot From its rich roof a sparry lustre shot . A crystal water ...
... voice sung sweetly thro ' the shade . It ceased - yet still in Florio's fancy sung , Still on each note his captive spirit hung ; Till o'er the mead a cool , sequestered grot From its rich roof a sparry lustre shot . A crystal water ...
Стр. 36
... voice of Innocence and Truth ! Hail , Memory , hail ! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumbered treasures shine ! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey , And Place and Time are subject to thy sway ! Thy pleasures most we ...
... voice of Innocence and Truth ! Hail , Memory , hail ! in thy exhaustless mine From age to age unnumbered treasures shine ! Thought and her shadowy brood thy call obey , And Place and Time are subject to thy sway ! Thy pleasures most we ...
Содержание
xxii | |
xxix | |
16 | |
85 | |
108 | |
146 | |
152 | |
154 | |
243 | |
250 | |
252 | |
258 | |
265 | |
280 | |
286 | |
295 | |
161 | |
169 | |
175 | |
182 | |
188 | |
194 | |
199 | |
206 | |
214 | |
221 | |
228 | |
235 | |
298 | |
301 | |
304 | |
311 | |
316 | |
325 | |
330 | |
336 | |
345 | |
352 | |
361 | |
Другие издания - Просмотреть все
Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения
age to age Alcestis ancient beautiful bids Bishop Berkeley blest breathed bright called charm Cicero clime clouds Columbus cried dark daugh dead death delight dream earth Euripides eyes father fear fled gate gaze Genoa glory glows gone grief grove hand heart heaven holy hour hung Hyades light line 14 line 30 lived look Lord Marcus Junius Brutus mind Montesquieu musing Naples never Newington Green night o'er once palaces passed Petrarch pleasure poem rise Rogers Rome round sacred sail sate says scene shade shine sigh silent sitting sleep smile song soon soul spirit spoke stir stood story stranger sung sweet tears temple thee thine things thou thought thro Titian tower triumph turned Twas Venice verse voice wake wander wave whence wild wind wings young youth
Популярные отрывки
Стр. 135 - Orsini lived ; and long mightst thou have seen An old man wandering as in quest of something, Something he could not find — he knew not what.
Стр. 107 - There is a glorious city in the sea; The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, Ebbing and flowing; and the salt seaweed Clings to the marble of her palaces.
Стр. 9 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! * Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Стр. 88 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June, 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent.
Стр. 147 - Of law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world ; all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power...
Стр. 60 - O eloquent, just, and mighty Death ! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded ; what none hath dared, thou hast done ; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised ; thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hie jacet...
Стр. 135 - ... twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as GINEVRA, " Why not remove it from its lurking-place?" ' Twas done as soon as said ; but on the way It burst, it fell ; and lo, a skeleton, With here and there a pearl, an emerald stone, A golden clasp, clasping a shred of gold.
Стр. 142 - ... mingling each with each ; Both and yet neither. There, from age to age, Two ghosts are sitting on their sepulchres. That is the Duke Lorenzo. Mark him well. He meditates, his head upon his hand. What from beneath his helm-like bonnet scowls ? Is it a face, or but an eyeless skull ? 'T is lost in shade ; yet, like the basilisk, It fascinates, and is intolerable.
Стр. 69 - MINE be a cot beside the hill ! A beehive's hum shall soothe my ear ; A willowy brook, that turns a mill, With many a fall shall linger near. The swallow oft, beneath my thatch, Shall twitter from her clay-built nest ; Oft 'shall the pilgrim lift the latch, And share my meal — a welcome guest.
Стр. 109 - A few in fear, Flying away from him whose boast it was,* That the grass grew not where his horse had trod, Gave birth to VENICE.