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admiration adorned affection amidst ancient antique appears arches architecture beautiful behold bells beneath broad buildings called Castle chamber Church City close colours course dark death deep delight distinguished fair fancy feel flowers fscap Garden glory gold golden gorgeous graceful grand green groves hand head heart hills Home hour House huge human hundred imagine Imperial Italy King least less light lofty look luxuriant magnificent mansions marble melancholy mighty mind mountains Nature never night noble once painted Palace picture pile Poems poor princely purple rich rocks Roman Rome round Ruin scarcely scene seemed seen side stone story stream streets sublime SUPPLENDA sure Temple thing thou thought thousand Tower town trees true vast walls waters wild winds wonder woods worthy
Strona 168 - And thy life shall hang in doubt before thee; and thou shalt fear day and night, and shalt have none assurance of thy life. In the morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even ! and at even thou shalt say, Would God it were morning! for the fear of thine heart wherewith thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine eyes which thou shalt see.
Strona 287 - Walk about Zion, and go round about her : Tell the towers thereof. Mark ye well her bulwarks, Consider her palaces ; That ye may tell it to the generation following : For this God is our God for ever and ever : He will be our guide even unto death.
Strona 248 - Tis not the balm, the sceptre, and the ball, The sword, the mace, the crown imperial The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, The farced title running 'fore the king, The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp That beats upon the high shore of this world...
Strona 66 - Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes, As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music!
Strona 312 - The lonely mountains o'er And the resounding shore A voice of weeping heard, and loud lament; From haunted spring and dale Edged with poplar pale The parting Genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Strona 201 - Beware !" her vest of gold Broidered with flowers and clasped from head to foot, An emerald stone in every golden clasp, And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face ! So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heart : It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody.
Strona 20 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Strona 298 - And yet, fair bow, no fabling dreams, But words of the Most High, Have told why first thy robe of beams Was woven in the sky. When o'er the green undeluged earth, Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, How came the world's gray fathers forth To watch thy sacred sign ! And when its yellow lustre smiled O'er mountains yet untrod, Each mother held aloft her child To bless the bow of God.