The Forest Sanctuary: And Other PoemsJ. Murray, 1825 - Всего страниц: 205 |
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Стр. 5
... Thou that gav'st me birth , And lineage , and once home , -my native Spain ! My own bright land - my father's land - my child's ! What hath thy son brought from thee to the wilds ? He hath brought marks of torture and the chain , Traces ...
... Thou that gav'st me birth , And lineage , and once home , -my native Spain ! My own bright land - my father's land - my child's ! What hath thy son brought from thee to the wilds ? He hath brought marks of torture and the chain , Traces ...
Стр. 6
... From man's ? -- I will rejoice ! -my soaring soul Now hath redeem'd her birth - right of the day , And won , through clouds , to Him , her own unfetter'd way ! VIII . And thou , my boy ! that silent 6 THE FOREST SANCTUARY .
... From man's ? -- I will rejoice ! -my soaring soul Now hath redeem'd her birth - right of the day , And won , through clouds , to Him , her own unfetter'd way ! VIII . And thou , my boy ! that silent 6 THE FOREST SANCTUARY .
Стр. 7
... thou wilt not dwell , Nor lift their banner , with a warrior's joy , Amidst the sons of mountain chiefs , who fell For Spain of old . - Yet what if rolling waves Have borne us far from our ancestral graves ? Thou shalt not feel thy ...
... thou wilt not dwell , Nor lift their banner , with a warrior's joy , Amidst the sons of mountain chiefs , who fell For Spain of old . - Yet what if rolling waves Have borne us far from our ancestral graves ? Thou shalt not feel thy ...
Стр. 8
... tempest bowing , Hath shrunk and died , those serpent - folds among . Alas ! alas ! -what is it that I see ? An image of man's mind , land of my sires , with thee ! XII . Yet art thou lovely ! -Song is on 8 THE FOREST SANCTUARY .
... tempest bowing , Hath shrunk and died , those serpent - folds among . Alas ! alas ! -what is it that I see ? An image of man's mind , land of my sires , with thee ! XII . Yet art thou lovely ! -Song is on 8 THE FOREST SANCTUARY .
Стр. 9
... thou lovely ! -Song is on thy hills- Oh sweet and mournful melodies of Spain , That lull'd my boyhood , how your memory thrills The exile's heart with sudden - wakening pain ! — Your sounds are on the rocks - that I might hear Once more ...
... thou lovely ! -Song is on thy hills- Oh sweet and mournful melodies of Spain , That lull'd my boyhood , how your memory thrills The exile's heart with sudden - wakening pain ! — Your sounds are on the rocks - that I might hear Once more ...
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The Forest Sanctuary: And Other Poems Felicia Dorothea Browne Hemans,Mrs. Hemans Полный просмотр - 1825 |
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ancient arm'd art thou Bartram's Travels bended Bow blast blue streams bowers brave breast breath breeze bright land brow burst cave chant cheek dark dead death deep didst Doth dreams earth ev'n fade faint fair brow faithful band falchion farewell father fled floating forest fount gaze glance gleam gloom grave hath hear heard heart Heaven hour house of sleep hush'd Ianthis joyous Lake of Lucerne leave light lone look look'd lov'd midst mighty mirth mournful night o'er Odin Odin's Hall pale phantom horses pines pour'd rest Richard Coeur-de-Lion rills Rio verde rocks Sea-king seas seem'd shades shadow shining shore silent sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring step stood streams sung sweet sword tears thee Theseus thine thou art Thou hast thou wert thought tomb tone voice pass'd wake wave weep wild wind woods wouldst thou young youth
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Стр. 188 - Yet more ! the billows and the depths have more ! High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle-thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave...
Стр. 91 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Стр. 97 - And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.
Стр. 146 - He lived — for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain ; Why comes not death to those who mourn ? He never smiled again ! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave, But which could fill the place of one...
Стр. 98 - In the solitude of the seas, we hail a star as a friend from whom we have long been separated. Among the Portuguese and the Spaniards peculiar motives seem to increase this feeling ; a religious sentiment attaches them to a constellation, the form of which recalls the sign of the faith planted by their ancestors in the deserts of the New World.
Стр. 92 - The vine had clasped its huge folds round the trunk, and from thence had wound about every branch and twig, until the mighty tree had withered in its embrace. It seemed like Laocoon struggling ineffectually in the hideous coils of the monster Python.
Стр. 145 - THE bark that held a prince went down. The sweeping waves roll'd on ; And what was England's glorious crown To him that wept a son? He lived — for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain; Why comes not death to those who mourn? — He never smiled again!
Стр. 133 - We call them far through the silent night, And they speak not from cave or hill; We know, thou bird! that their land is bright, But say, do they love there still ? 1 1 ANSWER TO THE MESSENGER BIRD.
Стр. 199 - RING, joyous chords! — ring out again! A swifter still, and a wilder strain ! They are here — the fair face and the careless heart, And stars shall wane ere the mirthful part. — But I met a dimly mournful glance, In a sudden turn of the flying dance ; I heard the tone of a heavy sigh In a pause of the thrilling melody...
Стр. 3 - They have been with me through the dreamy night — The blessed household voices, wont to fill My heart's clear depths with unalloy'd delight ! I hear them still, unchanged: — though some from earth Are music parted, and the tones of mirth — Wild, silvery tones, that rang through days more bright ! Have died in others, — yet to me they come, Singing of boyhood back — the voices of my home!