The juvenaile poetical library; selected from the works of modern British poets. Ed. by mrs. A. WattsPriscilla Maden Watts 1839 |
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Seite 12
... the silver cloud And to sing in the thunder - halls aloud ; To spread out the wings for a wild , free flight With the upper cloud - winds , -oh , what delight ! Oh , what would I give , like a bird 12 BIRDS IN SUMMER .
... the silver cloud And to sing in the thunder - halls aloud ; To spread out the wings for a wild , free flight With the upper cloud - winds , -oh , what delight ! Oh , what would I give , like a bird 12 BIRDS IN SUMMER .
Seite 34
... sing . Oh , Mither ! we hae missed ye , sair , mair sairly than ye ken ; When the darksome winter night came on I sought for ye in vain : I looked upon my Father's face , but tears were in his ee , And , Mither , when we knelt and ...
... sing . Oh , Mither ! we hae missed ye , sair , mair sairly than ye ken ; When the darksome winter night came on I sought for ye in vain : I looked upon my Father's face , but tears were in his ee , And , Mither , when we knelt and ...
Seite 66
... sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn . Row , brothers , row , the stream runs fast , The rapids are near , and the daylight's past ! Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl ! But when the wind blows ...
... sing at St. Ann's our parting hymn . Row , brothers , row , the stream runs fast , The rapids are near , and the daylight's past ! Why should we yet our sail unfurl ? There is not a breath the blue wave to curl ! But when the wind blows ...
Seite 70
... sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls . Ho ! gallant nobles of the League , look that your arms be bright ; Ho ! burghers of St. Genevieve , keep watch and ward to - night . For our God hath crushed the tyrant , our God hath raised ...
... sing a mass for thy poor spearmen's souls . Ho ! gallant nobles of the League , look that your arms be bright ; Ho ! burghers of St. Genevieve , keep watch and ward to - night . For our God hath crushed the tyrant , our God hath raised ...
Seite 92
... sing the Fays ; - Lord Musgrave hears Their shrill sweet song , and eager eyes The radiant show , despite the fears That to his bounding bosom rise . But soft ! the minstrelsy declines ; The morrice ceases , sounds the shaums ; And ...
... sing the Fays ; - Lord Musgrave hears Their shrill sweet song , and eager eyes The radiant show , despite the fears That to his bounding bosom rise . But soft ! the minstrelsy declines ; The morrice ceases , sounds the shaums ; And ...
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
babe beneath billows bird blaze blessed blue bosom bower breast breath breeze bright brow CHARLES LAMB cheer child cold dark dark funereal dead dear deep delight desert DISMAL SWAMP doth dread dream earth fair fairy Farewell father fear flame flowers gaze gleam glory Greatbatch green grief grim rocks happy hath hear heard heart heaven Helvellyn Henry of Navarre holly tree hour kiss light Loch Ken lonely look LORD BYRON merry miss thee morn mother mountain native never night o'er pale prayer ROBERT SOUTHEY round sail SAMUEL ROGERS saw thee shines shore sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stood stream sweet tears thee in thy There's thine THOMAS CAMPBELL THOMAS HOOD THOMAS PRINGLE thou thought thy beauty voice wandering waters waves weary weep wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH wind wings young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 26 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, - alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low.
Seite 68 - And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may — For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray — Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme, to-day, the helmet of Navarre.
Seite 2 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave : Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell, Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep, While the stormy tempests blow ; While the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow.
Seite 228 - Tis Greece, but living Greece no more ! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath ; But beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb — Expression's last receding ray, A gilded halo hovering round decay, The farewell beam of Feeling past away ! Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth, Which gleams, but warms no more its cherished earth...
Seite 199 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Seite 196 - And now, when comes the calm, mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Seite 4 - THE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm — A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form.
Seite 3 - O Cuckoo! shall I call thee Bird, Or but a wandering Voice? While I am lying on the grass Thy twofold shout I hear, From hill to hill it seems to pass, At once far off, and near. Though babbling only to the Vale, Of sunshine and of flowers, Thou bringest unto me a tale Of visionary hours. Thrice welcome, darling of the Spring! Even yet thou art to me No bird, but an invisible thing, A voice...
Seite 71 - THE SEA. The Sea ! the Sea ! the open Sea ! The blue, the fresh, the ever free ! Without a mark, without a bound, It runneth the earth's wide regions 'round ; It plays with the clouds ; it mocks the skies ; Or like a cradled creature lies.
Seite 186 - I remember, I remember Where I was used to swing, And thought the air must rush as fresh To swallows on the wing; My spirit flew in feathers then That is so heavy now, And summer pools could hardly cool The fever on my brow. I remember, I remember The fir trees dark and high; I used to think their slender tops Were close against the sky: It was a childish ignorance, But now 'tis little joy To know I'm farther off from- Heaven Than when I was a boy.