The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, 1854 - Всего страниц: 183 |
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Стр. 20
... thou shalt win . ' Then , ere the silver sickle of that month Became her golden shield , I stole from court With Cyril and with Florian , unperceived , Cat - footed thro ' the town and half in dread To hear my father's clamour at our ...
... thou shalt win . ' Then , ere the silver sickle of that month Became her golden shield , I stole from court With Cyril and with Florian , unperceived , Cat - footed thro ' the town and half in dread To hear my father's clamour at our ...
Стр. 51
... thou , Modulate me , Soul of mincing mimicry ! Make liquid treble of that bassoon , my throat ; Abase those eyes that ever loved to meet Star - sisters answering under crescent brows ; Abate the stride , which speaks of man , and loose ...
... thou , Modulate me , Soul of mincing mimicry ! Make liquid treble of that bassoon , my throat ; Abase those eyes that ever loved to meet Star - sisters answering under crescent brows ; Abate the stride , which speaks of man , and loose ...
Стр. 79
... thou that knowest each , That bright and fierce and fickle is the South , And dark and true and tender is the North . ' O Swallow , Swallow , if I could follow , and light Upon her lattice , I would pipe and trill , And cheep and ...
... thou that knowest each , That bright and fierce and fickle is the South , And dark and true and tender is the North . ' O Swallow , Swallow , if I could follow , and light Upon her lattice , I would pipe and trill , And cheep and ...
Стр. 108
... thou , That tends her bristled grunters in the sludge : ' For I was drench'd with ooze , and torn with briers , More crumpled than a poppy from the sheath , And all one rag , disprinced from head to heel . Then some one sent beneath his ...
... thou , That tends her bristled grunters in the sludge : ' For I was drench'd with ooze , and torn with briers , More crumpled than a poppy from the sheath , And all one rag , disprinced from head to heel . Then some one sent beneath his ...
Стр. 129
... thou shalt win : ' I thought on all the wrathful king had said , And how the strange betrothment was to end : Then I remember'd that burnt sorcerer's curse That one should fight with shadows and should fall ; And like a flash the weird ...
... thou shalt win : ' I thought on all the wrathful king had said , And how the strange betrothment was to end : Then I remember'd that burnt sorcerer's curse That one should fight with shadows and should fall ; And like a flash the weird ...
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ALEXANDER DYCE answer'd Arac arms ask'd babe betwixt Blow boys brows call'd child CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH cloth COLERIDGE'S cried Cyril dark daughter dead dear death DOVER STREET dream dropt dying EDITION EDWARD MOXON enemies have fall'n enter'd eyes face fair father fight Florian flying follow'd foolscap 8vo gain'd girl hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven HISTORY OF EGYPT king kiss'd knew Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa morning mother moved night noble o'er ourselves peace POEMS POETICAL Portrait and Vignette price 16s price 68 Prince Princess Princess Ida Psyche's rapt rode roll'd rose sang seem'd shadow shame shook song spake speak spoke star stept stood strange sweet talk'd thee THOMAS CAMPBELL thou thought thro turn'd vext voice volume 8vo wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Winter's tale woman women
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Стр. 66 - And thinking of the days that are no more. 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. 160 - She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words; And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, Sit side by side, full-summ'd in all their powers, Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, Self-reverent each and reverencing each, Distinct in individualities, But like each other ev'n as those who love. Then comes the statelier Eden back to men: Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste...
Стр. 67 - 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. 162 - And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Стр. 64 - 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. 105 - And roughly spake My father : ' Tut, you know them not, the girls. Boy, when I hear you prate I almost think That idiot legend credible. Look you, sir ! 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.
Стр. 66 - 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. 160 - Yet in the long years liker must they grow; The man be more of woman, she of man; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind ; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words...
Стр. 157 - 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. 64 - 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.