English Narrative PoemsClaude Moore Fuess, Henry Nichols Sanborn Macmillan, 1909 - 286 Seiten |
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Agnes Annie answer'd babe ballad BARBARA FRIETCHIE behold beneath breath Byron child Chillon cried Cutty-sark dark dead Dear mother Ida death died Dora Edited English Enoch Enoch Arden Enone eyes face fair father fear feet fell galloped Gilpin golden gone Grasmere gray grew guilders hand happy hath head hear heard hearken ere heart heaven Hervé Riel Hetman hill horse John Gilpin Julius Cæsar King knew Lake Geneva land light limbs live lonely look look'd Lord maid Mazeppa Milanion morning never night o'er Paul Revere Philip Piper poem poet Porphyro ride rose round sail scarce Schoeneus seem'd Sir John Moore Sir Richard Grenville smile soul stood street tale tell thee things thou thought thro town turned Twas Ukraine unto voice wave White Ship wife William WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind word
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Seite 154 - I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gatebolts undrew ; "Speed...
Seite 20 - One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear, When they reach'd the hall-door, and the charger stood near; So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung, So light to the saddle before her he sprung ! "She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur ; They'll have fleet steeds that follow,
Seite 218 - So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm, A cry of defiance and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo forevermore!
Seite 86 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Seite 87 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal ; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord...
Seite 155 - Aix," — for one heard the quick wheeze Of her chest, saw the stretched neck and staggering knees, And sunk tail, and horrible heave of the flank, As down on her haunches she shuddered and sank.
Seite 89 - Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor ; But no — already had his death-bell rung; The joys of all his life were said and sung : His was harsh penance on St. Agnes...
Seite 43 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow...
Seite 228 - Shoot, if you must, this old gray head, But spare your country's flag," she said. A shade of sadness, a blush of shame, Over the face of the leader came; The nobler nature within him stirred To life at that woman's deed and word; "Who touches a hair of yon gray head Dies like a dog! March on!
Seite 43 - NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O'er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, And the lantern dimly burning.