The Pleasures of Hope, with Other PoemsLongman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, ... and Doig and Stirling, Edinburgh, 1817 - 136 Seiten |
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Seite 9
... tear , And clasps , with many a sigh , his children dear ! While , long neglected , but at length caress'd , His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest , Points to the master's eyes ( where'er they roam ) His wistful face , and whines a ...
... tear , And clasps , with many a sigh , his children dear ! While , long neglected , but at length caress'd , His faithful dog salutes the smiling guest , Points to the master's eyes ( where'er they roam ) His wistful face , and whines a ...
Seite 16
... tears are lovelier than her smile ; - On Nature's throbbing anguish pour relief , And teach impassion'd souls the joy of grief ? " Yes ; to thy tongue shall seraph words be given , And pow'r on earth to plead the cause of Heaven ; The ...
... tears are lovelier than her smile ; - On Nature's throbbing anguish pour relief , And teach impassion'd souls the joy of grief ? " Yes ; to thy tongue shall seraph words be given , And pow'r on earth to plead the cause of Heaven ; The ...
Seite 20
... tears of Memory o'er my narrow bed ; With aching temples on thy hand reclined , Muse on the last farewell I leave behind , Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low , And think on all my love , and all my woe ? " So speaks affection ...
... tears of Memory o'er my narrow bed ; With aching temples on thy hand reclined , Muse on the last farewell I leave behind , Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low , And think on all my love , and all my woe ? " So speaks affection ...
Seite 21
... tear of pity , or a smile of love , Or cons his murmuring task beneath her care , Or lisps with holy look his evening prayer , Or gazing , mutely pensive , sits to hear The mournful ballad warbled in his ear ; How fondly looks admiring ...
... tear of pity , or a smile of love , Or cons his murmuring task beneath her care , Or lisps with holy look his evening prayer , Or gazing , mutely pensive , sits to hear The mournful ballad warbled in his ear ; How fondly looks admiring ...
Seite 22
... tears of rapture flow , And virtue triumphs o'er remember'd woe . Chide not his peace , proud Reason ! nor destroy The shadowy forms of uncreated joy , That urge the lingering tide of life , and pour Spontaneous slumber on his midnight ...
... tears of rapture flow , And virtue triumphs o'er remember'd woe . Chide not his peace , proud Reason ! nor destroy The shadowy forms of uncreated joy , That urge the lingering tide of life , and pour Spontaneous slumber on his midnight ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
adieu afar ANTISTROPHE Arion BALLIOL COLLEGE beauty Beauty's bleed bliss bosom bowers Brama brave bright Briton brow cease charm charm'd child clime deed deep delight doom'd dread dust dust return earth eternal fate fire fond friendless Gilderoy glow hail hallow'd hand Hark Hast thou hath heart Heaven heavenly Hindoo hour hurl'd isles James Ballantyne life's light lingering lonely Loxian lyre MEDEA Mercy midnight mingles mournful Murder murmur Muse Nature Nature's NOTE numbers o'er pang parricide Peace pensive Plato PLEASURES OF HOPE poor dog Tray Prague proud rapture red dragons ROBERT FINCH sacred sapient scenes seraph shade shalt shore sigh slumber smile song sooth sorrow soul spirit storm strings sublime sweep sweet TAYLOR INSTITUTION tears thee thine trembling triumph Truth twas unfathom'd vale viewless watch wave weep wheels wild winds wing wounded Hussar wrath wretch
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 30 - Departed spirits of the mighty dead ! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled ! Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man, Fight in his sacred cause, and lead the van ! Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone, And make her arm puissant as your own ! Oh ! once again to Freedom's cause return The patriot Tell— the Bruce of Bannockburn...
Seite 28 - Oh, bloodiest picture in the book of Time, Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime ; Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe, Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe...
Seite 52 - The world was sad! — the garden was a wild! And man, the hermit, sigh'd — till woman smiled!
Seite 70 - Oh ! lives there, Heaven ! beneath thy dread expanse, One hopeless, dark idolater of Chance, Content to feed, with pleasures unrefined, The lukewarm passions of a lowly mind ; Who, mouldering earthward, 'reft of every trust, In joyless union wedded to the dust, Could all his parting energy dismiss, And call this barren world sufficient bliss...
Seite 26 - Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, Presaging wrath to Poland — and to man ! Warsaw's last champion from her height survey'd, Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid, — "O Heaven !" he cried, "my bleeding country save !-•Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Seite 20 - Chide not his peace, proud Reason; nor destroy The shadowy forms of uncreated joy, That urge the lingering tide of life, and pour Spontaneous slumber on his midnight hour. Hark!
Seite 73 - This frail and feverish being of an hour ; Doomed o'er the world's precarious scene to sweep, Swift as the tempest travels on the deep, To know Delight but by her parting smile, And toil, and wish, and weep a little while ; Then melt, ye elements, that formed in vain This troubled pulse, and visionary brain ! Fade, ye wild flowers, memorials of my doom, And sink, ye stars, that light me to the tomb...
Seite 24 - Come, bright Improvement ! on the car of Time, And rule the spacious world from clime to clime; L Thy handmaid arts shall every wild explore, Trace every wave, and culture every shore.
Seite 8 - When all is still on Death's devoted soil, The march-worn soldier mingles for 'the toil ; As rings his glittering tube, he lifts on high The dauntless brow, and spirit-speaking eye, Hails in his heart the triumph yet to come, And hears thy stormy music in the drum ! And such thy strength-inspiring aid that bore The hardy Byron to his native shore.
Seite 27 - Heaven ! he cried, my bleeding country save : Is there no hand on high to shield the brave ? Yet, though destruction sweep these lovely plains, Rise, fellow-men ! our country yet remains ! By that dread name, we wave the sword on high, And swear for her to live ! — with her to die...