New elegant extracts; a selection from the most eminent British poets and poetical translators, by R.A. Davenport, Band 4 |
Im Buch
Ergebnisse 1-5 von 45
Seite 11
... give A verse ; the sorrowing maid a sigh . While I alas ! no distant date , Mix with the dust from whence I came , Without a friend to weep my fate , Without a stone to tell my name . GIFFORD . WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTER THE · PRECEDING ...
... give A verse ; the sorrowing maid a sigh . While I alas ! no distant date , Mix with the dust from whence I came , Without a friend to weep my fate , Without a stone to tell my name . GIFFORD . WRITTEN TWO YEARS AFTER THE · PRECEDING ...
Seite 15
... Give to thy sordid friends thy days , Still trust that they will act sincerely ; And when the specious mask decays , Lament the heart that loved thee dearly ! Fortune will swiftly journey on , And age and sickness haste to meet thee ...
... Give to thy sordid friends thy days , Still trust that they will act sincerely ; And when the specious mask decays , Lament the heart that loved thee dearly ! Fortune will swiftly journey on , And age and sickness haste to meet thee ...
Seite 16
... give , Though on my lips it dies too fast , Shall always in my memory live . But thou each tender thought of me Blot out for ever from thy breast , Nor heed what pangs I feel for thee , While with another thou art bless'd . To him ...
... give , Though on my lips it dies too fast , Shall always in my memory live . But thou each tender thought of me Blot out for ever from thy breast , Nor heed what pangs I feel for thee , While with another thou art bless'd . To him ...
Seite 17
... give my soul her wonted rest ; Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye , Heart - gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast . Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call , With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour ; Lead beauty through ...
... give my soul her wonted rest ; Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye , Heart - gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast . Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call , With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour ; Lead beauty through ...
Seite 19
... give the labouring heart to rest , To wipe the tear , and heal the wounded breast , Say , by what crime offended , flies from me , Invoked , thy unpropitious deity ? Or dooms , on racks of wildest fancy torn , In dreams my agonizing ...
... give the labouring heart to rest , To wipe the tear , and heal the wounded breast , Say , by what crime offended , flies from me , Invoked , thy unpropitious deity ? Or dooms , on racks of wildest fancy torn , In dreams my agonizing ...
Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
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
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 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.
Seite 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?
Seite 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!
Seite 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!
Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 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.
Seite 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.