The Poetical MelangeG. A. Douglas, 1828 |
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Página 38
... ashamed to call his own ; and he Who ruined her read from her holy look , That pierced him with perdition manifold , His sentence burning with vindictive fire .. Pollok . 1 TIME . Time speeds away - away - away 38 THE POETICAL MELANGE .
... ashamed to call his own ; and he Who ruined her read from her holy look , That pierced him with perdition manifold , His sentence burning with vindictive fire .. Pollok . 1 TIME . Time speeds away - away - away 38 THE POETICAL MELANGE .
Página 41
... Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower : The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye- No humbler resting - place was nigh . With hesitating step , at last , The embattled portal - arch he past , Whose ponderous grate and massy bar Had oft rolled ...
... Looks out from Yarrow's birchen bower : The Minstrel gazed with wishful eye- No humbler resting - place was nigh . With hesitating step , at last , The embattled portal - arch he past , Whose ponderous grate and massy bar Had oft rolled ...
Página 68
... looks of sympathy and joy ! He walks , he speaks , in many a broken word His wants , his wishes , and his griefs are heard , And ever , ever , to her lap , he flies , When rosy sleep comes on with sweet surprise . Locked in her arms ...
... looks of sympathy and joy ! He walks , he speaks , in many a broken word His wants , his wishes , and his griefs are heard , And ever , ever , to her lap , he flies , When rosy sleep comes on with sweet surprise . Locked in her arms ...
Página 69
... looks , and looks , and still with new delight . Ah who , when fading of itself away , Would cloud the sunshine of his little day ! Now is the May of life . Careering round , Joy wings his feet , joy lifts him from the ground ! Pointing ...
... looks , and looks , and still with new delight . Ah who , when fading of itself away , Would cloud the sunshine of his little day ! Now is the May of life . Careering round , Joy wings his feet , joy lifts him from the ground ! Pointing ...
Página 69
... looks delighted , My mother smiled upon her child , And felt her pangs requited ! SOLITUDE . To sit on rocks , to muse o'er THE POETICAL MELANGE . 71 Helvellyn, Human Life, Imaginary Apostrophe of Buonaparte, Immortality of the Soul ...
... looks delighted , My mother smiled upon her child , And felt her pangs requited ! SOLITUDE . To sit on rocks , to muse o'er THE POETICAL MELANGE . 71 Helvellyn, Human Life, Imaginary Apostrophe of Buonaparte, Immortality of the Soul ...
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Outras edições - Ver todos
The Poetical Melange. [Compiled by G. A. Douglas.], Volume 2 George A. Douglas Visualização completa - 1828 |
Termos e frases comuns
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
Passagens mais conhecidas
Página 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...
Página 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.
Página 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'
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 166 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.
Página 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.
Página 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.
Página 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...