The Lyre: Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth CenturyTilt and Bogue, 1841 - 344 Seiten |
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Seite 13
... hope had lost its rich romantic hues , When human bosoms seemed the homes of truth , And earth still gleamed with beauty's radiant dews . Her summer prime waned not to days that freeze , Her wine of life was not run to the lees : Weep ...
... hope had lost its rich romantic hues , When human bosoms seemed the homes of truth , And earth still gleamed with beauty's radiant dews . Her summer prime waned not to days that freeze , Her wine of life was not run to the lees : Weep ...
Seite 17
... Hope had waved her parting wing : When Boyhood's burning dreams were mine , And Fancy's magic circlet crowned me ; And Love , when love is half divine , Spread its enchantments round me ! How can I e'er forget the hour When thou wert ...
... Hope had waved her parting wing : When Boyhood's burning dreams were mine , And Fancy's magic circlet crowned me ; And Love , when love is half divine , Spread its enchantments round me ! How can I e'er forget the hour When thou wert ...
Seite 19
... hope is immortality , whose steps Are steps of flame , on which the many gaze But dare not follow . He one moment paused , And cast a farewell look on all around . How beautiful must be the sky above , And fair the earth beneath , to ...
... hope is immortality , whose steps Are steps of flame , on which the many gaze But dare not follow . He one moment paused , And cast a farewell look on all around . How beautiful must be the sky above , And fair the earth beneath , to ...
Seite 20
... hope , of youth , of spring , is poured on every note ; And yet my full o'erburthened heart grows troubled by your power , And ye seem to press the long past years into one little hour . If I have looked on lovely scenes , that now I ...
... hope , of youth , of spring , is poured on every note ; And yet my full o'erburthened heart grows troubled by your power , And ye seem to press the long past years into one little hour . If I have looked on lovely scenes , that now I ...
Seite 39
... hope , to minstrel feeling ? Is this the cloud that destiny Flings o'er the spirit's high revealing ? It is it is ! tread on thy way , Be base , be grovelling , soulless , cold ; Look not up from the sullen path That leads to this ...
... hope , to minstrel feeling ? Is this the cloud that destiny Flings o'er the spirit's high revealing ? It is it is ! tread on thy way , Be base , be grovelling , soulless , cold ; Look not up from the sullen path That leads to this ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
ALARIC beams beauty Behave yoursel beneath billows bird blessed blue bosom bower breast breath bright bright eyes brow calm charm cheek cloud cold dark dead death deep doth dream e'en earth EAST INDIAMAN fair fame feeling Fireside fled flowers gaze gentle gleam glory glow gone grave grief harp hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hope hour KIRKSTALL ABBEY land life's light lips lonely look LORD BYRON lute LYRE mirth morning mountain murmur N. P. WILLIS ne'er NELL GWYN never night o'er pale passion rose round Sappho shine shore SICILIAN VESPERS sigh silent skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou hast thou wert thought tones Twas Valentine's day voice wave weep wild wind wings young youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 195 - ... tread. The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood ? Alas ! they all are in their graves ; the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth...
Seite 158 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power : In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror...
Seite 166 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Seite 60 - And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may, For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.
Seite 195 - And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Seite 159 - They fought — like brave men, long and well ; They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won ; Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun.
Seite 104 - O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight— Where are those dreamers now? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade.
Seite 163 - AND thou hast walked about, (how strange a story!) In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And Time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous.
Seite 86 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Seite 278 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...