Epistles, Odes, and Other PoemsJames Carpenter, 1806 - 341 páginas |
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Página 2
Thomas Moore. The reveries of fond regret , The promise , never to forget , And all my heart and soul would send To many a dear - lov'd , distant friend ! Oh STRANGFORD ! when we parted last , I little thought the times were past , For ...
Thomas Moore. The reveries of fond regret , The promise , never to forget , And all my heart and soul would send To many a dear - lov'd , distant friend ! Oh STRANGFORD ! when we parted last , I little thought the times were past , For ...
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... Eight bells ! —the middle watch is set ; Good night , my STRANGFORD ! -ne'er forget That , far beyond the Western Sea Is one , whose heart remembers thee ! STANZAS . Θυμος δε ποτ ' εμος ......... ............... με 6.
... Eight bells ! —the middle watch is set ; Good night , my STRANGFORD ! -ne'er forget That , far beyond the Western Sea Is one , whose heart remembers thee ! STANZAS . Θυμος δε ποτ ' εμος ......... ............... με 6.
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... forget how superior , for mortals below , Is the fiction they dream to the truth that they know . ' This and the subsequent poem have appeared in the public prints . Oh ! who , that has ever had rapture complete 29 To the INVISIBLE GIRL.
... forget how superior , for mortals below , Is the fiction they dream to the truth that they know . ' This and the subsequent poem have appeared in the public prints . Oh ! who , that has ever had rapture complete 29 To the INVISIBLE GIRL.
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... we cannot for an instant forget that it is the scene of Shakspeare's Tempest , and that here he conjured up the " delicate Ariel , " who alone is worth the whole heaven of ancient mythology . In velvet buds , at evening , lov'd to lie 45.
... we cannot for an instant forget that it is the scene of Shakspeare's Tempest , and that here he conjured up the " delicate Ariel , " who alone is worth the whole heaven of ancient mythology . In velvet buds , at evening , lov'd to lie 45.
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... assemble in little cotilion parties , where they dance away the remembrance of their unfor- tunate country , and forget the miseries which " Les amis des noirs " brought upon them . Say , that I hope , when winter's o'er , 64 AT NIGHT.
... assemble in little cotilion parties , where they dance away the remembrance of their unfor- tunate country , and forget the miseries which " Les amis des noirs " brought upon them . Say , that I hope , when winter's o'er , 64 AT NIGHT.
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Termos e frases comuns
Achilles Tatius ancient arms Aspasia beam beneath Bermuda blessed blest bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breast breath breath'd breeze bright brow burning charm cheek Cicero clime dear Dismal Swamp divine dream earth Epicurean Epicurus EPISTLE Eunapius fair fairy fancy fancy's feel flowers girl glowing grace hath heart heaven heavenly heptachord hour hung island isle John Bermudez kiss kist Lady languid Leontium light lonely look look'd lov'd lovers luxury lyre magic maid mingle morning murmurs ne'er never night nymph o'er Paulus Silentiarius Pausanias philosophers Pindar Plato play'd Plutarch pure Pythagoras round rove says seem'd shade shed sigh sleep slumber smile soft song soothing soul spirit spring stole sweet sweetly tear tell thee thine thou thought Twas vermil warm wave weep wing δε και μεν τε ΤΟ
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 305 - FAINTLY as tolls the evening chime Our voices keep tune and our oars keep time. Soon as the woods on shore look dim, We'll sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn. Row, brothers, row, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Página 40 - And the boat returned no more. But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp This lover and maid so true Are seen at the hour of midnight damp. To cross the Lake by a fire-fly lamp. And paddle their white canoe ! MARCHIONESS DOWAGER OF DONEGALL.
Página 307 - There is not a breath the blue wave to curl, But, when the wind blows off the shore, Oh, sweetly we'll rest our weary oar. Blow, breezes, blow, the stream runs fast, The rapids are near and the daylight's past.
Página 39 - They made her a grave, too cold and damp For a soul so warm and true ; And she's gone to the lake of the Dismal Swamp, Where, all night long, by a firefly lamp, She paddles her white canoe. " And her firefly lamp I soon shall see, And her paddle I soon shall hear ; Long and loving our life shall be, And I'll hide the maid in a cypress tree, When the footstep of Death is near...
Página 210 - The weary statesman for repose hath fled From halls of council to his negro's shed, Where blest he woos some black Aspasia's grace. And dreams of freedom in his slave's embrace...
Página 4 - Pursues the murmurers of the deep, And lights them with consoling gleam, And smiles them into tranquil sleep ! Oh ! such a blessed night as this, I often think, if friends were near, How we should feel, and gaze with bliss Upon the moon-bright scenery here! The sea is like a silvery lake, And, o'er its calm the vessel glides Gently, as if it feared to wake The slumber of the silent tides...
Página 14 - Tin« like thy wing's impatient zeal Is the pure soul, that scorns to rest Upon the world's ignoble breast, But takes the plume that God has given, And rises into light and heaven ! But, when I see that wing, so bright...
Página 40 - And the dim shore echoed, for many a night, The name of the death-cold maid. Till he hollow'da boat of the birchen bark, Which carried him off from shore ; Far, far he follow'd the meteor spark, The wind was high and the clouds were dark, And the boat return'd no more. But oft, from the Indian hunter's camp This lover and maid so true Are seen at the hour of midnight damp To cross the Lake by a...
Página 70 - I DO confess, in many a sigh, My lips have breath'd you many a lie, And who with such delights in view, Would lose them, for a lie or two ? Nay— look not thus, with brow reproving ; Lies are, my dear, the soul...
Página 180 - Who can. with patience, for a moment see The medley mass of pride and misery, Of whips and charters, manacles and rights, Of slaving blacks and democratic whites. And all the piebald polity that reigns In free confusion o'er Columbia's plains? To think that man, thou just and gentle God ! Should stand before thee, with a tyrant's rod O'er creatures like himself, with souls from thee, Yet dare to boast of perfect liberty...