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Abergavenny Alfonso appears beautiful blood Boabdil boat Canto character Childe Harold Coleridge death devil Don Giovanni Don Juan doubt e'er Edinburgh Review English English poetry epic Eutropius eyes fair fame father favour feel friends genius Giaour Grandmother's Review Haidee heart heaven honour hope hour human innocence Juan's Julia Kirkby Mallory knew lady less letter libertine living look'd Lord Byron mind Moore moral mother muse ne'er never noble o'er pantisocracy pass'd passages passion perhaps person poem poet poetical poetry Pope praise present reader rhyme ribaldry Samian wine scarce seem'd ship soul Southey spirit stanzas style sublime sure sweet tears There's things thou thought turn'd Twas verse virtue Wat Tyler wave wife William Wordsworth wine wish words Wordsworth write written Yarrow young youth
Strona 337 - Soft hour! which wakes the wish and melts the heart | Of those who sail the seas, on the first day When they from their sweet friends are torn apart; Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way As the far bell of vesper makes him start, Seeming to weep the dying day's decay; Is this a fancy which our reason scorns ? iAh!
Strona 329 - But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling like dew upon a thought, produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.
Strona 90 - Whose buzz the witty and the fair annoys, Yet wit ne'er tastes, and beauty ne'er enjoys : So well-bred spaniels civilly delight In mumbling of the game they dare not bite. Eternal smiles his emptiness betray, As shallow streams run dimpling all the way.
Strona 328 - Trust not for freedom to the Franks — They have a king who buys and sells; In native swords, and native ranks, The only hope of courage dwells : But Turkish force, and Latin fraud, Would break your shield, however broad.
Strona 40 - Let beeves and home-bred kine partake The sweets of Burn-mill meadow ; The swan on still St. Mary's Lake Float double, swan and shadow ! We will not see them ; will not go, To-day, nor yet to-morrow, Enough if in our hearts we know There's such a place as Yarrow.
Strona 231 - Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash Of billows; but at intervals there gush'd, Accompanied with a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony.
Strona 196 - No more — no more — oh ! never more on me The freshness of the heart can fall like dew, Which out of all the lovely things we see Extracts emotions beautiful and new, Hived in our bosoms like the bag o' the bee, Think'st thou the honey with those objects grew?
Strona 203 - Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations, Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain, I pray ye flog them upon all occasions, It mends their morals, never mind the pain...