Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
arms beauty bells beneath blessed blood borne brave bright brow castle church cried crown dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fall father fear fell field fire forest France gates give glory gold gone grave gray green hand hath head hear heard heart Henry hour Italy King land leave light living lone look lord March morning mother mountain never night noble o'er o’er once pain passed peace plain prayer rest rock round Saint shade shining shore side silent smile soft song soul sound stand stone stood stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought towers town trees voice walls waters wave wild wind woods young youth
Seite 13 - NOW entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe. From camp to camp, through the foul womb of night, The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fix'd sentinels almost receive The secret .whispers of each other's watch. Fire answers fire ; and through their paly flames Each battle sees the other's umber
Seite 202 - ... a thousand spears in rest, A thousand knights are pressing close behind the snow-white crest; And in they burst, and on they rushed, while, like a guiding star, Amidst the thickest carnage blazed the helmet of Navarre. Now, God be praised, the day is ours. Mayenne hath turned his rein; D'Aumale hath cried for quarter; the Flemish count is slain.
Seite 30 - Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven ; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot, And thereby hangs a tale.
Seite 27 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Seite 202 - Ho! maidens of Vienna; ho! matrons of Lucerne; Weep, weep, and rend your hair for those who never shall return. Ho! Philip, send, for charity, thy Mexican pistoles, That Antwerp monks may sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls.
Seite 5 - The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, Slaves by their own compulsion ! In mad game They burst their manacles and wear the name Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain...
Seite 53 - Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow: Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee; air, earth, and skies; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee; thou hast great allies; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
Seite 200 - And we cried unto the living God, who rules the fate of war, To fight for his own holy name, and Henry of Navarre.
Seite 27 - That feelingly persuade me what I am. Sweet are the uses of adversity ; Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing.
Seite 15 - Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host, That he which hath no stomach to this fight, Let him depart; his passport shall be made And crowns for convoy put into his purse: We would not die in that man's company^ That fears his fellowship to die with us.