Cyclopædia of English Literature: A History, Critical and Biographical, of British and American Authors, with Specimens of Their Writings, Volumen5Robert Chambers Amer. Book Exchange, 1879 |
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Página 5
... stream so clear as Rocnabad , A bower so sweet as Mosellay . Oh ! when these fair perfidious maids , Whose eyes our ... streams of sweetness fill , Which nought but drops of honey sip ? Go boldly forth , my simple lay , Whose accents ...
... stream so clear as Rocnabad , A bower so sweet as Mosellay . Oh ! when these fair perfidious maids , Whose eyes our ... streams of sweetness fill , Which nought but drops of honey sip ? Go boldly forth , my simple lay , Whose accents ...
Página 12
... streams your fields divide , That shew reversed the villas on their side ; No groves have ye ; no cheerful sound of bird , Or voice of turtle in your land is heard ; Nor grateful eglantine regales the smell Of those that walk at evening ...
... streams your fields divide , That shew reversed the villas on their side ; No groves have ye ; no cheerful sound of bird , Or voice of turtle in your land is heard ; Nor grateful eglantine regales the smell Of those that walk at evening ...
Página 31
... streams they bend ; The love - sick violet , and the primrose pale , Bow their sweet heads , and whisper to the gale ; With secret sighs the virgin lily droops , And jealous cowslips hang their tawny cups . How the young rose , in ...
... streams they bend ; The love - sick violet , and the primrose pale , Bow their sweet heads , and whisper to the gale ; With secret sighs the virgin lily droops , And jealous cowslips hang their tawny cups . How the young rose , in ...
Página 36
... stream , issuing from her azure veins , Dyes her white veil , her ivory bosom stains . Äh me ! ' she cried , and sinking on the ground , Kissed her dear babes , regardless of the wound ; O cease not yet to beat , thou vital urn ! Wait ...
... stream , issuing from her azure veins , Dyes her white veil , her ivory bosom stains . Äh me ! ' she cried , and sinking on the ground , Kissed her dear babes , regardless of the wound ; O cease not yet to beat , thou vital urn ! Wait ...
Página 37
... streams , Checkers thy rocks with dancing beams . Here may nó clamours harsh intrude , No brawling hound or clarion rude ; Here no fell beast of midnight prowl , And teach thy tortured cliffs to howl . Be thine to pour these vales along ...
... streams , Checkers thy rocks with dancing beams . Here may nó clamours harsh intrude , No brawling hound or clarion rude ; Here no fell beast of midnight prowl , And teach thy tortured cliffs to howl . Be thine to pour these vales along ...
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Cyclopaedia of English Literature: A History, Critical and ..., Volumen3 Robert Chambers,Robert Carruthers Sin vista previa disponible - 2016 |
Términos y frases comunes
beauty beneath blank verse breast breath breeze bright Burns Byron Charles Lamb charm cheerful clouds Coleridge Colonsay Cowper dark dear death deep delight Della Cruscan dream earth eyes fair fancy father fear feel flowers frae friends gaze Gelert genius grace grave green hand happy hath heard heart heaven Henry Kirke White hill hope Horace Smith hour lady light literary living lonely look Lord Lord Byron mind moon morning mountain native nature never night o'er passion pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry pride published rill ROBERT POLLOK Rolliad rose round says scene Scott shade shew shore sigh silent Sir Walter Scott sleep smile soft song sonnets soul Southey spirit stars stream sweet taste tears tender thee thine thou thought Twas vale verse voice volume wandering wave wild winds Wordsworth young youth
Pasajes populares
Página 292 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Clustered around by all her starry Fays...
Página 262 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, — roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin, — his control Stops with the shore; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Página 156 - Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averred, I had killed the bird That brought the fog and mist.
Página 156 - He struck with his o'ertaking wings And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold: And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald.
Página 159 - They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise. The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze...
Página 324 - ABOU BEN ADHEM (may his tribe increase!) Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold: Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, And to the presence in the room he said, "What writest thou?" The vision raised its head, And, with a look made of all sweet accord, Answered, "The names of those who love the Lord.
Página 279 - What thou art we know not: What is most like thee? From rainbow clouds there flow not drops so bright to see, As from thy presence showers a rain of melody. Like a poet hidden in the light of thought, Singing hymns unbidden, till the world is wrought To sympathy with hopes and fears it heeded not.
Página 156 - And I had done a hellish thing. And it would work 'em woe: For all averred. I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow.
Página 16 - With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same that oft in childhood solaced me; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, "Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away!
Página 138 - Once again I see These hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little lines Of sportive wood run wild : these pastoral farms. Green to the very door; and wreaths of smoke Sent up, in silence, from among the trees ! With some uncertain notice, as might seem Of vagrant Dwellers in the houseless woods, Or of some Hermit's cave, where by his fire The Hermit sits alone.