PoemsT. Cadell, 1781 - 118 páginas |
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Página 38
... Lord of Day Refumes the golden skies . Attendant on the genial hours , The voluntary shades and flowers For rural lovers spring ; Wild choirs unfeen in concert join , And round Apollo's rustic shrine The fylvan Muses fing . The The ...
... Lord of Day Refumes the golden skies . Attendant on the genial hours , The voluntary shades and flowers For rural lovers spring ; Wild choirs unfeen in concert join , And round Apollo's rustic shrine The fylvan Muses fing . The The ...
Página 45
... lord appears ! HENRY . I come , I come , my love ! my life ! And Nature's dearest name , my wife ! Long have I loved thee ; long have fought ; And dangers braved and battles fought ; In this embrace our evils end ; From this our better ...
... lord appears ! HENRY . I come , I come , my love ! my life ! And Nature's dearest name , my wife ! Long have I loved thee ; long have fought ; And dangers braved and battles fought ; In this embrace our evils end ; From this our better ...
Página 46
... ? What have I done - to follow you ? I leave a father torn with fears ; I leave a mother bath'd in tears ; A brother girding on his fword Against my life , against my lord . Now , Now , without father , mother , friend , On 46 M S. P OE.
... ? What have I done - to follow you ? I leave a father torn with fears ; I leave a mother bath'd in tears ; A brother girding on his fword Against my life , against my lord . Now , Now , without father , mother , friend , On 46 M S. P OE.
Página 58
... Lord of his own paternal field , He liberal dealt his store ; And call'd the stranger to his feast , The beggar to his door . But , ah ! what mortal knows the hour Of Fate ? A hand unseen Upon the curtain ever rests , And fudden shifts ...
... Lord of his own paternal field , He liberal dealt his store ; And call'd the stranger to his feast , The beggar to his door . But , ah ! what mortal knows the hour Of Fate ? A hand unseen Upon the curtain ever rests , And fudden shifts ...
Página 59
John Logan. The Sun , that , rising , saw him Lord Of hill and valley round , Beheld him , at his fetting hour , Without one foot of ground . Forth from the hall , no longer his , He is a pilgrim gone ; And walks a stranger o'er the ...
John Logan. The Sun , that , rising , saw him Lord Of hill and valley round , Beheld him , at his fetting hour , Without one foot of ground . Forth from the hall , no longer his , He is a pilgrim gone ; And walks a stranger o'er the ...
Términos y frases comunes
accent afcends arms aroſe beam beauty Behold bleſs bleſt bloom boſom bowers ceaſe charm claſp'd climes cloſe crown'd dark defcend divine duſt e'er earth eyes fair Fancy father filence fing firſt flow flowers fond fong foon forrow forſake fought foul friendſhip fudden green grove gueſt hall hand HARRIET hear heart Heaven heavenly hill hour houſe HYMN laſt light lonely Lord lover Maſter morning Muſe muſic muſt Nature's ne'er never night o'er paſt peace Philomela praiſe preſent promiſed raiſe reſign rife riſe robe Rofe roſe round rove ſcene ſhade ſhall ſhe ſhed ſhine ſhore ſkies ſky ſmile ſpread ſpring ſtar ſtep ſtill ſtore ſtorm ſtrain ſtranger ſtream ſweet tears tender thee theſe Thou art thro tomb unfold unſeen Vale Venus vernal Virgin viſion voice voice of Spring walk wandering waſte weary weep wept whiſper Whoſe wild wind wood Yarrow youth
Pasajes populares
Página 4 - I'd fly with thee! We'd make, with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the Spring. THE BRAES OF YARROW "Thy braes were bonny, Yarrow stream! When first on them I met my lover; Thy braes how dreary, Yarrow stream! When now thy waves his body cover! For ever now, O Yarrow stream! Thou art to me a stream of sorrow; For never on thy banks shall I Behold my love, the flower of Yarrow. "He promised me a milk-white steed, To bear me to his father's bowers; He promised me a little...
Página 2 - The schoolboy, wandering through the wood To pull the primrose gay, Starts, the new voice of spring to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Sweet bird ! thy bower is ever green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year ! O, could I fly, I'd fly with thee ! We'd make, with joyful wing, Our annual visit o'er the globe, Companions of the spring.
Página 95 - Determined are the days that fly Successive o'er thy head ; The number'd hour is on the wing, That lays thee with the dead.
Página 5 - His mother from the window look'd, With all the longing of a mother; His little sister weeping walk'd The greenwood path to meet her brother : They sought him east, they sought him west, They sought him all the Forest thorough; They only saw the cloud of night, They only heard the roar of Yarrow.
Página 104 - In her right hand she holds to view A length of happy years ; And in her left the prize of fame, And honour bright appears.
Página 117 - Though now ascended up on high, He bends on earth a brother's eye ; Partaker of the human name, He knows the frailty of our frame.
Página 49 - Intrusion marr'd the tender hour, A demon started in the bower ; If, like the past, the future run, And my dark day is but begun, What clouds may hang above my head ? What tears may I have yet to shed...
Página 9 - Affection sad will drop a tear. How oft does Sorrow bend the head, Before we dwell among the dead ! Scarce in the years of manly prime I've often wept the wrecks of time. What tragic tears bedew the eye ! What deaths we suffer ere we die ! Our broken friendships we deplore, And loves of youth that are no more ! No after-friendship e'er can raise Th' endearments of our early days ; And ne'er the heart such fondness prove, As when it first began to love.
Página 7 - I'll seek thy body in the stream, And then with thee I'll sleep in Yarrow. — The tear did never leave her cheek, No other youth became her marrow ; She found his body in the stream, And now with him she sleeps in Yarrow.
Página 16 - We love th' alluring line of grace, That leads the eye a wanton chace, And lets the fancy rove ; The walk of Beauty ever bends, And ftill begins, but never ends, The labyrinth of love.