The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Svazek 2F.C. & J. Rivington, 1803 |
Vyhledávání v knize
Strana 232
... The combat deepens ! On ye brave , Who rush to glory or the grave ! Wave Munich , all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry . " Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war - clouds rolling dun Where fiery Frank ...
... The combat deepens ! On ye brave , Who rush to glory or the grave ! Wave Munich , all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry . " Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war - clouds rolling dun Where fiery Frank ...
Obsah
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The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Svazek 2 Úplné zobrazení - 1803 |
The Poetical Register, and Repository of Fugitive Poetry for 1801-11, Svazek 2 Úplné zobrazení - 1803 |
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Anacreon ANNA SEWARD Bard beam beauty behold bend beneath blank verse blest bosom bowers breast breath bright Britons brow charms cold dark dear death deep dread E'en EDMUND L EPIGRAM fair falchion fame Fancy fate fear fond frown gale gentle glory glow grace grave grove hand hear heart Heaven hope hour LEFTLY light lonely lov'd LUPERCIO lyre maid MARISCHAL COLLEGE mind mourn Muse Naiads ne'er Nebaioth Nereids night numbers nymph o'er ORIEL COLLEGE pale peace plain pleasure poem pow'r praise pride proud rapture rill rise round sacred scene shade shine shore sighs smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul spirit storm strain stream sweet SYLPH SYLPHIL tear tempest tender thee thine thou thro throne toil tomb trembling vale verse vex'd Village Maid virtue wave weep wild wing youth
Oblíbené pasáže
Strana 217 - 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.
Strana 296 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Strana 296 - Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds ! And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God ! Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal frost!
Strana 175 - And the house, when it was in building, was built of stone made ready before it was brought thither : so that there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of iron heard in the house, while it was in building.
Strana 183 - And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof.
Strana 232 - Greatness and goodness are not means but ends ! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man ? Three treasures,- love and light, And calm thoughts regular as infant's breath : And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
Strana 295 - Arve and Arveiron at thy base Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form! Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, How silently! Around thee and above Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it, As with a wedge! But when I look again, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal shrine, Thy habitation from eternity!
Strana 218 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry. Few, few shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet ; And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
Strana 168 - Where now thy might, which all those kings subdued? No martial myriads muster in thy gate ; No suppliant nations in thy Temple wait ; No prophet bards...
Strana 169 - And as the seer on Pisgah's topmost brow With glistening eye beheld the plain below, With prescient ardour drank the scented gale, And bade the opening glades of Canaan hail, Her eagle eye shall scan the prospect wide. From...