The poetical works of William Collins, with the comm. of Langhorne. To which is prefixed some account of the life of Collins by dr. Johnson1804 |
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... mountain - doe Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe . Cold is her breast , like flowers that drink the dew ; A silken veil conceals her from the view . No wild desires amidst thy train be known ; But Faith , whose heart is fixt on ...
... mountain - doe Holds the swift falcon for her deadly foe . Cold is her breast , like flowers that drink the dew ; A silken veil conceals her from the view . No wild desires amidst thy train be known ; But Faith , whose heart is fixt on ...
Seite 21
... mountain's side , The fountain's murmurs , and the valley's pride , Why think we these less pleasing to behold Than dreary deserts , if they lead to gold ! " Sad was the hour , and luckless was the day , " When first from Schiraz ...
... mountain's side , The fountain's murmurs , and the valley's pride , Why think we these less pleasing to behold Than dreary deserts , if they lead to gold ! " Sad was the hour , and luckless was the day , " When first from Schiraz ...
Seite 26
... mountains , and the forests green . Her maids around her mov'd , a duteous band ! Each bore a crook , all - rural , in her hand : Some simple lay , of flocks and herds they sung ; With joy the mountain , and the forest rung . " Be every ...
... mountains , and the forests green . Her maids around her mov'd , a duteous band ! Each bore a crook , all - rural , in her hand : Some simple lay , of flocks and herds they sung ; With joy the mountain , and the forest rung . " Be every ...
Seite 28
... MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA . TIME , MIDNIGHT . In fair Circassia , where , to love inclin'd , Each swain was blest , for every maid was kind ; At that still hour when awful midnight reigns , And none but wretches haunt the twilight plains ...
... MOUNTAIN IN CIRCASSIA . TIME , MIDNIGHT . In fair Circassia , where , to love inclin'd , Each swain was blest , for every maid was kind ; At that still hour when awful midnight reigns , And none but wretches haunt the twilight plains ...
Seite 29
... mountain's weary side ! AGIB . Weak as thou art , yet , hapless , must thou know The toils of flight , or some severer woe ! Still , as I haste , the Tartar shouts behind ; And shrieks and sorrows load the saddening wind : In rage of ...
... mountain's weary side ! AGIB . Weak as thou art , yet , hapless , must thou know The toils of flight , or some severer woe ! Still , as I haste , the Tartar shouts behind ; And shrieks and sorrows load the saddening wind : In rage of ...
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The Poetical Works of William Collins, with the Comm. of Langhorne. to Which ... William Collins Keine Leseprobe verfügbar - 2016 |
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Abra lov'd AGIB allegorical ancient ANTISTROPHE bard beautiful blank verse blast blest boast breathe Brownie charm Circassia Collins CYMBELINE death delight dreary drest Druid dwell E'en epithalamium ev'ry eyes fair fairy Fancy fear flowers fond genius Georgian maid golden hair Greece green grief grove hail hand happy haste haunt hear heard heart Hebrides hour imagery isle John Sharpe luckless lyre lyric magic maid like Abra midst mind moral mountains mourn mov'd murmurs muse myrtles native nature Ne'er numbers Nymph o'er Oriental Eclogues passions pastoral Pity Pity's plain poems poet poet's poetical poetry Polynices rage round royal Abbas rural scene Schiraz sentiment shade shepherds sighs SIR THOMAS HANMER soft song Sophocles sounds springs strain sullen sung swain sweet tears tender thee Theocritus thou thought toil truth vale verse virtue voice of Peace watchet wild wizzard youth εν
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 72 - And though sometimes, each dreary pause between, Dejected Pity, at his side, Her soul-subduing voice applied, Yet still he kept his wild unaltered mien, While each strained ball of sight seemed bursting from his head.
Seite 71 - tis said, when all were fired, Fill'd with fury, rapt, inspired, From the supporting myrtles round They snatch'd her instruments of sound,' And, as they oft had heard apart Sweet lessons of her forceful art, Each (for madness ruled the hour) Would prove his own expressive power, FIRST Fear his hand, its skill to try, Amid the chords bewilder'd laid, And back recoil'd, he knew not why, E'en at the sound himself had made.
Seite 46 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Seite 70 - When Music, heavenly maid, was young, While yet in early Greece she sung, The Passions oft, to hear her shell, Thronged around her magic cell...
Seite 85 - No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew ; The female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew. The redbreast oft at evening hours Shall kindly lend his little aid, With hoary moss and gather'd flowers, To deck the ground where thou art laid.
Seite 138 - 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 45 - While on its rich ambitious head, An Eden, like his own, lies spread. I view that oak, the fancied glades among, By which as Milton lay, his evening ear, From many a cloud that dropp'd ethereal dew, Nigh spher'd in heaven, its native strains could hear...
Seite 8 - That this man, wise and virtuous as he was, passed always unentangled through the snares of life, it would be prejudice and temerity to affirm; but it may be said that at least he preserved the source of action unpolluted, that his principles were never shaken, that his distinctions of right and wrong were never confounded, and that his faults had nothing of malignity or design, but proceeded from some unexpected pressure, or casual temptation.
Seite 142 - twas wild. But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, What was thy delighted measure ! Still it whispered promised pleasure, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail...
Seite 22 - What if the lion in his rage I meet ! Oft in the dust I view his printed feet : And fearful ! oft, when day's declining light Yields her pale empire to the mourner night, By hunger...