New elegant extracts; a selection from the most eminent British poets and poetical translators, by R.A. Davenport, Volumen4 |
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... . Yet even in these a thought will steal , In spite of every vain endeavour ; And fiends might pity what I feel , To know that thou art lost for ever . LORD BYRON . ΤΟ WELL ! thou art happy , and I feel ELEGANT EXTRACTS . P. VII .
... . Yet even in these a thought will steal , In spite of every vain endeavour ; And fiends might pity what I feel , To know that thou art lost for ever . LORD BYRON . ΤΟ WELL ! thou art happy , and I feel ELEGANT EXTRACTS . P. VII .
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... lost my all ; and life has proved Since that sad hour a dreary void , A waste unlovely and unloved . But who , when I am turn'd to clay , Shall duly to her grave repair , And pluck the ragged moss away , And weeds that have no business ...
... lost my all ; and life has proved Since that sad hour a dreary void , A waste unlovely and unloved . But who , when I am turn'd to clay , Shall duly to her grave repair , And pluck the ragged moss away , And weeds that have no business ...
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... lost to love , how often has she stray'd , When the fond lover led his blushing maid , When his soft lips , too eloquent his art , Pour'd the warm wish , and breathed out all his heart ! [ o'er , Ah , once loved seats ! your pleasing ...
... lost to love , how often has she stray'd , When the fond lover led his blushing maid , When his soft lips , too eloquent his art , Pour'd the warm wish , and breathed out all his heart ! [ o'er , Ah , once loved seats ! your pleasing ...
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... lost ? Why yet in life infernal tortures feel , Bound by fierce demons to some rapid wheel ? Now seem to climb , while hills on hills arise , In vain or fall in tempests from the skies , Tread burning plains , or swim in seas of fire ...
... lost ? Why yet in life infernal tortures feel , Bound by fierce demons to some rapid wheel ? Now seem to climb , while hills on hills arise , In vain or fall in tempests from the skies , Tread burning plains , or swim in seas of fire ...
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... lost to fame , to honour , and to love ! Nursed in dark caverns on some mountain wild , To cruel manhood grew the darling child , No female breast supplied thy infant food , But tigers growling o'er their savage brood . Cursed be that ...
... lost to fame , to honour , and to love ! Nursed in dark caverns on some mountain wild , To cruel manhood grew the darling child , No female breast supplied thy infant food , But tigers growling o'er their savage brood . Cursed be that ...
Términos y frases comunes
adieu beams beauty beguile beneath bless bless'd bliss bloom bosom cold bower breast breath bright CHARLOTTE SMITH charm cheek cheer dark dear death despair dream e'er ELEGY eyes fade fair Fair city Fancy farewell fate feel flame flowers fond gale gay nature gentle gloom glow grace grave grief grove hast hear heart Heaven honours hope HOTWELLS hour hour of victory life's lips lonely LORD BYRON love restore love's Lover Lycidas lyre Maid with bosom mind Monody morn mourn Muse Naiad ne'er night nymph o'er pain pale pangs pass'd peace pity pride rapture rill rise round scenes scorn shade shine shore sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song soothe sorrows soul spring strain stream sweet tear tempest tender thee thine thou thought tomb Twas vale virtue voice wake wandering wave weep wild winds youth
Pasajes populares
Página 170 - Would'st softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? I would not trust my heart ; — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Página 193 - Ay me, I fondly dream, Had ye been there! — for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Página 172 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Página 195 - Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold! Of other care they little reckoning make Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths!
Página 198 - Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Página 197 - Where the great vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold ; Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth : And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Página 197 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Página 193 - O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return! Thee, Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves, With wild Thyme and the gadding Vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes, mourn. The Willows, and the Hazel Copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft lays.
Página 170 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Página 126 - Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.