The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth CenturyCarey & Hart, 1845 - 504 strán (strany) |
Vyhľadávanie v obsahu knihy
Výsledky 1 - 5 z 100.
Strana 9
... Spring in Ravenna . Lines written in a Lonely Burial Ground To a Child , during Sickness Address to a Wild Deer . Lines written in a Highland Glen BRYAN W. PROCTOR The Rising of the North Stanzas- That was not a barren time " The Return ...
... Spring in Ravenna . Lines written in a Lonely Burial Ground To a Child , during Sickness Address to a Wild Deer . Lines written in a Highland Glen BRYAN W. PROCTOR The Rising of the North Stanzas- That was not a barren time " The Return ...
Strana 24
... Spring . " He subsequently published " Verses to John Howard on his State of the Prisons and Lazarettos , ” “ Hope , ' , " " Coombe Ellen , " " St. Michael's Mount , " " A Collection of Poems " in four volumes , " The Battle of the Nile ...
... Spring . " He subsequently published " Verses to John Howard on his State of the Prisons and Lazarettos , ” “ Hope , ' , " " Coombe Ellen , " " St. Michael's Mount , " " A Collection of Poems " in four volumes , " The Battle of the Nile ...
Strana 29
... springs in Grosvenor - square , And the furr'd beauty comes to winter there , She bids old Nature mar the plan no ... spring with unfelt current flows . Emblem of life ! which , still as we survey , Seems motionless , yet ever glides ...
... springs in Grosvenor - square , And the furr'd beauty comes to winter there , She bids old Nature mar the plan no ... spring with unfelt current flows . Emblem of life ! which , still as we survey , Seems motionless , yet ever glides ...
Strana 30
... spring bursts forth in blossoms through the vale , And her wild music triumphs on the gale , Oft with my book I muse from stile to stile ; Oft in my porch the listless noon beguile , Framing loose numbers , till declining day Through ...
... spring bursts forth in blossoms through the vale , And her wild music triumphs on the gale , Oft with my book I muse from stile to stile ; Oft in my porch the listless noon beguile , Framing loose numbers , till declining day Through ...
Strana 31
... spring ! How oft inscribed , with friendship's votive rhyme , The bark now silver'd by the touch of Time ; Soar'd in ... springs , at every step , to claim a tear , Some little friendship form'd and cherish'd here ; And not the lightest ...
... spring ! How oft inscribed , with friendship's votive rhyme , The bark now silver'd by the touch of Time ; Soar'd in ... springs , at every step , to claim a tear , Some little friendship form'd and cherish'd here ; And not the lightest ...
Iné vydania - Zobraziť všetky
The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century Rufus Wilmot Griswold Zobrazenie úryvkov - 1845 |
Časté výrazy a frázy
art thou beauty beneath blood bosom bower breast breath bright bright eye brow calm Catiline cheek child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth eyes fair falchion fancy fear feel flowers gaze gentle gleam gloom glory glow golden grave green grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hope hour John of Procida Lady of Shalott Lars Porsena LEIGH HUNT life's light lips living lone look look'd Lord LORD BYRON lyre mighty morning mountain ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd poems poet rill rose round Samian wine seem'd shade sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stream sweet tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought tomb tree turn'd Twas vex'd voice waves weary weep wild wind wings youth
Populárne pasáže
Strana 51 - I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Strana 188 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile; In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown ; The heathen in his blindness Bows down to wood and stone.
Strana 58 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou...
Strana 230 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
Strana 310 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Strana 91 - Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! — To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay!
Strana 68 - She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar, " Now tread we a measure,
Strana 306 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: — Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Strana 57 - O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction : not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest — Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: — Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us,...
Strana 237 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.