The chaplet, poems, partly original and partly selected1805 |
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Seite 10
... bosom swell : The damps of death bedew'd his brow , He shook , he groan'd , he fell . From the vain bride , ah , bride no more ! The varying crimson fled , When stretch'd before her rival's corse , She saw her husband dead . Then to his ...
... bosom swell : The damps of death bedew'd his brow , He shook , he groan'd , he fell . From the vain bride , ah , bride no more ! The varying crimson fled , When stretch'd before her rival's corse , She saw her husband dead . Then to his ...
Seite 23
... bosom swell'd , Her RING she from her finger drew . " O ! golden pledge of early love ! 66 44 Thou promise of connubial bliss ! Upbraid me not ! " — she cried- " nor prove " How ill this soul sustains distress . " Whene'er thy ...
... bosom swell'd , Her RING she from her finger drew . " O ! golden pledge of early love ! 66 44 Thou promise of connubial bliss ! Upbraid me not ! " — she cried- " nor prove " How ill this soul sustains distress . " Whene'er thy ...
Seite 54
... . No more those bowers might Strephon see , Where first he fondly gaz'd on thee ; No more those beds of flowrets find , Which for thy charming brows he twin'd . Each wayward passion soon would tear His bosom , now 54.
... . No more those bowers might Strephon see , Where first he fondly gaz'd on thee ; No more those beds of flowrets find , Which for thy charming brows he twin'd . Each wayward passion soon would tear His bosom , now 54.
Seite 55
Chaplet. Each wayward passion soon would tear His bosom , now so void of care : And , when they left his ebbing vein , What , but insipid age , remain ? Then mourn not the decrees of fate , That gave his life so short a date ; And I will ...
Chaplet. Each wayward passion soon would tear His bosom , now so void of care : And , when they left his ebbing vein , What , but insipid age , remain ? Then mourn not the decrees of fate , That gave his life so short a date ; And I will ...
Seite 59
... bosom tear ; When the big lip and watery eye Tell me , the rising storm is nigh ; ' Tis then , thou art yon angry main , Deform'd by winds , and dash'd by rain ; And the poor sailor , that must try Its fury , labours less then I ...
... bosom tear ; When the big lip and watery eye Tell me , the rising storm is nigh ; ' Tis then , thou art yon angry main , Deform'd by winds , and dash'd by rain ; And the poor sailor , that must try Its fury , labours less then I ...
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
art thou beams beauty Beauty's beneath blast bless blest blush bosom bower breast breath bright brow charms cheek clasp'd cotton grass Croesus dear death delight despair dread drest dwell ev'ry Fanny blooming fair fate fear feel flow flowers fond form'd gale gentle glow grace grave grief hand happy hard fate hast hear heart Heav'n hope hour lady lips lov'd lyre maid Mary morn ne'er night nymph o'er pain pale pang passions peace Pity poor pow'r praise pride rage rais'd rapture rest rise round shade sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song SONNET sorrow soul spring swain sweet sweet sensation swell tear tempests tender thee thine thou thro trembling Twas vale virgin's first love virtue voice vows waves wild wild passion willow wind winding sheet wing youth
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 18 - 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...
Seite 16 - They say it was a shocking sight After the field was won; For many thousand bodies here Lay rotting in the sun; But things like that, you know, must be After a famous victory. "Great praise the Duke of Marlbro' won, And our good Prince Eugene.
Seite 176 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary!
Seite 14 - Old Kaspar took it from the boy, Who stood expectant by; And then the old man shook his head, And with a natural sigh, ' 'Tis some poor fellow's skull,' said he, 'Who fell in the great victory.
Seite 87 - twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure? Still it whisper'd promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain prolong; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on Echo still, through all the song: And, where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, And Hope enchanted smiled, and waved her golden hair.
Seite 19 - Tis want that makes my cheek so pale. Yet I was once a mother's pride, And my brave father's hope and joy ; But in the Nile's proud fight he died, And I am now an orphan boy. " Poor foolish child, how pleased was I, When news of Nelson's victory came, Along the crowded streets to fly, And...
Seite 163 - Who slept in buds the day, And many a Nymph who wreathes her brows with sedge, And sheds the freshening dew, and, lovelier still, The pensive Pleasures sweet, Prepare thy shadowy car.
Seite 40 - Then holding the spectacles up to the court — Your lordship observes they are made with a straddle As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ; in short, Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle.
Seite 176 - Twas my distress that brought thee low, My Mary! Thy needles, once a shining store, For my sake restless heretofore, Now rust disused, and shine no more; My Mary! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for me still, Thy sight now seconds not thy will, My Mary!
Seite 17 - 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.