The Poetical MelangeG. A. Douglas, 1828 |
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Strona xii
... youth , I hear thee speak of the better land , I pity bashful men , who feel the pain , I saw an aged beggar in my walk , I used to love thee , simple flower , I wish I was where Anna lies , .......... Page . 166 84 . 189 ...... 244 10 ...
... youth , I hear thee speak of the better land , I pity bashful men , who feel the pain , I saw an aged beggar in my walk , I used to love thee , simple flower , I wish I was where Anna lies , .......... Page . 166 84 . 189 ...... 244 10 ...
Strona 1
... youth ! -And often , in those melancholy dreams , When my soul travels through the umbrage deep That shades the silent world of memory , Methinks I hear his voice ! sweet as the breath Of balmy ground - flowers stealing from some spot ...
... youth ! -And often , in those melancholy dreams , When my soul travels through the umbrage deep That shades the silent world of memory , Methinks I hear his voice ! sweet as the breath Of balmy ground - flowers stealing from some spot ...
Strona 5
... youth's glad hours ; And a smile passed over his wasted brow Like the sun o'er withered flowers . And his burning hands o'er his eyelids passed , To crush the tears that had sprung at last . With feeble aim he raised his hand , And ...
... youth's glad hours ; And a smile passed over his wasted brow Like the sun o'er withered flowers . And his burning hands o'er his eyelids passed , To crush the tears that had sprung at last . With feeble aim he raised his hand , And ...
Strona 13
... ? Ah ! often that scene doth Fancy trace , Where the friend of my youth lay dying , And often I think on the distant place , Where that friend is lowly lying . Peace , peace to thy spirit ! the words of THE POETICAL MELANGE . 13.
... ? Ah ! often that scene doth Fancy trace , Where the friend of my youth lay dying , And often I think on the distant place , Where that friend is lowly lying . Peace , peace to thy spirit ! the words of THE POETICAL MELANGE . 13.
Strona 38
... youth , With wo too wide to see beyond - she died : Not unatoned for by imputed blood , Nor by the spirit that mysterious works , Unsanctified . Aloud her father cursed That day his guilty pride which would not own A daughter whom the ...
... youth , With wo too wide to see beyond - she died : Not unatoned for by imputed blood , Nor by the spirit that mysterious works , Unsanctified . Aloud her father cursed That day his guilty pride which would not own A daughter whom the ...
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Anon beam beauty beneath blessed blest bliss bloom bosom bower breast breath bright brow Byron calm charm cheek child clouds cold Cumnor dark dead dear death deep doom dream dust earth eternal fade fair Farewell father fear feel fled flowers frae gazed glory glowing gone grave grief harp hast hath heart heaven Helvellyn hope hour John Malcolm Kilmeny land life's light lisp live lonely look LORD BYRON Mariamne MINSTREL BOY morning mortal mother mountain mourn ne'er never night o'er peace perished band praise prayer rapture rest rose round Samian wine scene seraph shade shed shining book shore sigh silent skies sleep slumber smile song sorrow soul spirit star sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought tomb trembling Twas twill vile bands voice wave ween weep wept wild winds wing youth
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 131 - ALL thoughts,' all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve...
Strona 24 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we call'd the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Strona 85 - The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse : Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires'
Strona 222 - Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought, Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret joy: Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing — there As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven.
Strona 85 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Strona 37 - Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.
Strona 166 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.
Strona 37 - On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Strona 62 - If aught should tempt my soul to stray From heavenly wisdom's narrow way ; To fly the good I would pursue, Or do the sin I would not do ; Still He, who felt temptation's power, Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.
Strona 22 - THAT those lips had language ! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same, that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away...