First flowers, by a literary amateurW. Simpkin and R. Marshall, 1825 - 271 Seiten |
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... * 267 Song . The Rose to Isabel 268 Song . Mary's Eyes → 269 Lines suggested by the Portrait of a Lady idem The Maniac to his Dog The Hours that have Passed 270 271 Drawn by Shephard LONDON & GREENWICH HO PITAT Engraved by.
... * 267 Song . The Rose to Isabel 268 Song . Mary's Eyes → 269 Lines suggested by the Portrait of a Lady idem The Maniac to his Dog The Hours that have Passed 270 271 Drawn by Shephard LONDON & GREENWICH HO PITAT Engraved by.
Seite 66
... hour of twelve is anti- cipated by the juniors of each merry party . For at that hour - his step upon the very threshhold of the new year , and every sorrow thrown back upon the " bye - gane " one - the first foot , or favoured youth of ...
... hour of twelve is anti- cipated by the juniors of each merry party . For at that hour - his step upon the very threshhold of the new year , and every sorrow thrown back upon the " bye - gane " one - the first foot , or favoured youth of ...
Seite 68
... its nest ; The bee hums on from flower to flower , Till twilight's dim and pensive hour ; The joyous year arrives ; but when Shall bye - past times come back again ? 3RD . I think on childhood's glowing years- How soft 68.
... its nest ; The bee hums on from flower to flower , Till twilight's dim and pensive hour ; The joyous year arrives ; but when Shall bye - past times come back again ? 3RD . I think on childhood's glowing years- How soft 68.
Seite 75
... Hours of Idleness , " the earliest Parnassian wreath , twined and published during his mi- nority , by the immortal bard . The poesy of this young lord , ' observed these liberal and ingenious critics , ' belongs to the class which ...
... Hours of Idleness , " the earliest Parnassian wreath , twined and published during his mi- nority , by the immortal bard . The poesy of this young lord , ' observed these liberal and ingenious critics , ' belongs to the class which ...
Seite 76
... hour when its chords were broken by the hand of death ! - * Fortune ! take back these cultured lands , Take back this name of splendid sound ! I hate the touch of servile hands , I hate the slaves that cringe around . Place me among the ...
... hour when its chords were broken by the hand of death ! - * Fortune ! take back these cultured lands , Take back this name of splendid sound ! I hate the touch of servile hands , I hate the slaves that cringe around . Place me among the ...
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Beliebte Passagen
Seite 72 - He has visited all Europe, — not to survey the sumptuousness of palaces, or the stateliness of temples ; not to make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosity of modern art ; not to collect medals, or...
Seite 73 - THE poesy of this young lord belongs to the class which neither gods nor men are said to permit. Indeed, we do not recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few deviations in either direction from that exact standard. His «cffusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more get (above or below the level, than if they were so much stagnant 'water.
Seite 71 - God! sing ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice ! 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! Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's nest! Ye eagles, play-mates of the mountain storm! Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the clouds ! Ye signs and wonders of the elements ! Utter forth God, and fill the hills with praise!
Seite 71 - 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!
Seite 72 - ... temples, not to make accurate measurements of the remains of ancient grandeur, nor to form a scale of the curiosity of modern art, not to collect medals or collate manuscripts, — but to dive into the depths of dungeons, to plunge into the infection of hospitals, to survey the mansions of sorrow and pain, to take the...
Seite 71 - 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!
Seite 67 - Surely everybody is aware of the divine pleasures which attend a winter fireside, — candles at four o'clock, warm hearth-rugs, tea, a fair tea-maker, shutters closed, curtains flowing in ample draperies on the floor, whilst the wind and rain are raging audibly without...
Seite 81 - Let him for succour sue from place to place, Torn from his subjects, and his son's embrace. First let him see his friends in battle slain, And their untimely fate lament in vain ; And when at length the cruel war shall cease, On hard conditions may he buy his peace ; Nor let him then enjoy supreme command, But fall untimely by some hostile hand, And...
Seite 248 - Go rule thy will, Bid thy wild passions all be still, Know God — and bring thy heart to know, The joys which from religion flow: Then every Grace shall prove its guest, And I'll be there to crown the rest.
Seite 76 - Tis Flora's page: — In every place, In every season, fresh and fair, It opens with perennial grace, And blossoms everywhere. On waste and woodland, rock and plain, Its humble buds unheeded rise; The Rose has but a summer reign, — The Daisy never dies.