The Bijou; or, Annual of literature and the artsWilliam Pickering, 1828 |
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Strona 1
... thou art . Some transient griefs will touch thy heart , Griefs that along thy altered face Will breathe a more subduing grace , Than even those looks of joy that lie On the soft cheek of infancy . WILSON . HAST thou been in the woods ...
... thou art . Some transient griefs will touch thy heart , Griefs that along thy altered face Will breathe a more subduing grace , Than even those looks of joy that lie On the soft cheek of infancy . WILSON . HAST thou been in the woods ...
Strona 12
II . TEXTURE of mightiest splendor , force and art , Wove in the fine loom of the subtlest brain , The brilliance of thy colours shines in vain , If steeped not in the fountains of the heart ! If those pure waves no added strength ...
II . TEXTURE of mightiest splendor , force and art , Wove in the fine loom of the subtlest brain , The brilliance of thy colours shines in vain , If steeped not in the fountains of the heart ! If those pure waves no added strength ...
Strona 13
... thy green boughs on the air , There is dew on thy branches , what doth it do there ? Thou that art worn on the conqueror's shield , When his country receives him from glory's red field ; Thou that art wreathed round the lyre of the bard ...
... thy green boughs on the air , There is dew on thy branches , what doth it do there ? Thou that art worn on the conqueror's shield , When his country receives him from glory's red field ; Thou that art wreathed round the lyre of the bard ...
Strona 14
... thou lovely rose tree ! The tears of the midnight , why hang they on thee ? 3 . Dark cypress I see thee - thou art my reply , Why the tears of the night on thy comrade trees lie ; That laurel it wreathed the red brow of the brave , Yet thy ...
... thou lovely rose tree ! The tears of the midnight , why hang they on thee ? 3 . Dark cypress I see thee - thou art my reply , Why the tears of the night on thy comrade trees lie ; That laurel it wreathed the red brow of the brave , Yet thy ...
Strona 15
Thou art from another , a lovelier sphere , Unknown to the sorrows that darken us here . Thou art as a herald of hope from above : - Weep mourner no more o'er thy grief and thy love ; Still thy heart in its beating , be glad of such ...
Thou art from another , a lovelier sphere , Unknown to the sorrows that darken us here . Thou art as a herald of hope from above : - Weep mourner no more o'er thy grief and thy love ; Still thy heart in its beating , be glad of such ...
Kluczowe wyrazy i wyrażenia
Adam Ferguson appeared Appollonia Augustus Fox Baal baron Battle of Montiel beautiful Beauvilliers BEGUE beneath brave breath bright brow Cain Cathleen Chancery Lane cheek child cried crown 8vo dark David Wilkie dost doth dream Earl exclaimed eyes fair farewell father fear flowers Gabriella grace grave grief GUESCLIN Halloran hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven Henry Hogan honour hope HOUSSAYE husband John Gibson Lockhart King Lady Leonora Leverton light look Lord MARIA DE PADILLA Master Bertram Master Toby morning never night noble o'er old woman ONIS Painted passed Pedlar Pedro PEREZ poor Portrait Queen R.A. Engraved racter Reichenstein replied RODRIGO rose round S. T. Coleridge scarcely Sir Thomas Lawrence sleep smile SOLDIER soul Stothard sweet tell thee thine thing Thomas Thomas Stothard thou art thought turned voice vols William Pickering young youth
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 24 - All Nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair — The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing — And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing.
Strona 139 - Youth! for years so many and sweet, 'Tis known that Thou and I were one, I'll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that Thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:— And thou wert aye a masker bold!
Strona 24 - The bees are stirring — birds are on the wing — And Winter, slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing, Nor honey make, nor pair, nor build, nor sing. Yet well I ken the banks where amaranths blow, Have traced the fount whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths! bloom for whom ye may, For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away!
Strona 20 - Fairly began — but finish'd not; And fruitless, late remorse doth trace — Like Hebrew lore a backward pace — Her irrecoverable race. Disjointed numbers; sense unknit Huge reams of folly, shreds of wit; Compose the mingled mass of it. My scalded eyes no longer brook Upon this ink-blurr'd thing to look — Go, shut the leaves, and clasp the book.
Strona 138 - twixt Now and Then! This breathing house not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong, O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands, How lightly then it flashed along: — Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, On winding lakes and rivers wide, That ask no aid of sail or oar, That fear no spite of wind or tide! Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in't together.
Strona 140 - A wild-rose roofs the ruined shed, And that and summer well agree : And lo ! where Mary leans her head, Two dear names carved upon the tree ! And Mary's tears, they are not tears of sorrow...
Strona 12 - neath the curtain of translucent dew, Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus, with the host of heaven, came ; And lo ! creation widened in man's view.
Strona 138 - Tis known, that Thou and I were one, I'll think it but a fond conceit— It cannot be that Thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:— And thou wert aye a masker bold! What strange disguise hast now put on, To make believe, that thou art gone?
Strona 304 - Face of the curled streams, with flow'rs as many As the young spring gives, and as choice as any ; Here be all new delights, cool streams and wells ; Arbours o'ergrown with woodbines, caves and dells ; Choose where thou wilt...
Strona xi - With the hare through the copses and dingles wild ! With the butterfly over the heath, fair child ? Yes : the light fall of thy bounding feet Hath not startled the wren from her mossy seat ; Yet hast thou ranged the green forest-dells, And brought back a treasure of buds and bells.