Poems ... Reprinted from the American Octavo Edition, Volym 1Hilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins., 1827 |
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Sida 10
... hours of woe and peril , though the deep And solemn feelings wakening at their voice , Claim all the wrought - up spirit to themselves , And will not blend with mirth . The storm doth hush All floating whispery sound , all bird - notes ...
... hours of woe and peril , though the deep And solemn feelings wakening at their voice , Claim all the wrought - up spirit to themselves , And will not blend with mirth . The storm doth hush All floating whispery sound , all bird - notes ...
Sida 12
... hour by hour , the noble and the brave Are falling round us , and we deem it much To give them funeral - rites , and call them blest If the good sword , in its own stormy hour , Hath done its work upon them , ere disease Had chill'd ...
... hour by hour , the noble and the brave Are falling round us , and we deem it much To give them funeral - rites , and call them blest If the good sword , in its own stormy hour , Hath done its work upon them , ere disease Had chill'd ...
Sida 13
... hour Whose shadows , as they deepen , bring repose Unto all weary men ; and wilt not thou Free thy mail'd bosom from the corslet's weight , To rest at fall of eve ? GONZALEZ . There may be rest For the tired peasant , when the vesper ...
... hour Whose shadows , as they deepen , bring repose Unto all weary men ; and wilt not thou Free thy mail'd bosom from the corslet's weight , To rest at fall of eve ? GONZALEZ . There may be rest For the tired peasant , when the vesper ...
Sida 22
... hour , The heavy hour is come , when human strength Sinks down , a toil - worn pilgrim , in the dust , Owning that woe is mightier ! -Spare me yet This 22 SIEGE OF VALENCIA .
... hour , The heavy hour is come , when human strength Sinks down , a toil - worn pilgrim , in the dust , Owning that woe is mightier ! -Spare me yet This 22 SIEGE OF VALENCIA .
Sida 23
... She is as one , Who , at the trumpet's sudden call , hath risen From the gay banquet , and in scorn cast down The wine - cup , and the garland , and the lute Of festal hours , for the good spear and helm SIEGE OF VALENCIA . 23.
... She is as one , Who , at the trumpet's sudden call , hath risen From the gay banquet , and in scorn cast down The wine - cup , and the garland , and the lute Of festal hours , for the good spear and helm SIEGE OF VALENCIA . 23.
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Poems ... Reprinted from the American Octavo Edition, Volym 2 Mrs. Hemans Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1827 |
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ABDULLAH ALBERTI ALPHONSO ANSELMO arms art thou aught banner bear beneath blood brave breath bright brow burst canst Castile Cid's CITIZEN clouds Conradin CONSTANCE Couci dark dead death deep doth dreams E'en earth ELMINA ERIBERT Ev'n Exeunt Exit fair faith father fearful GARCIAS glorious glory GONZALEZ grief GUIDO guilt hast thou hath hear heard Heaven HERNANDEZ hope hour know'st land light live look look'd midst mighty heart MONTALBA Moorish ne'er night noble o'er pale pass'd peace PEASANT pour'd PROCIDA proud Provençal RAIMOND rest Roncesvalles SCENE scorn Seelisberg seem'd SICILIANS Sicily silent sleep smile sons soul sound Spain speak spirit storm strength strong sword tell thee thine eye things thou art thou hast thou shouldst thoughts thy heart Tizona Twas Twill unto Valencia VITTORIA voice warrior wild wilt wouldst thou XIMENA youth ΧΙΜΕΝΑ
Populära avsnitt
Sida 120 - E'en while with ours thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. Dust, to its narrow house beneath ! Soul, to its place on high ! They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die.
Sida 26 - tis mockery all ! — A faithless mist, a desert-vapour, wearing The brightness of clear waters, thus to cheat The thirst that semblance kindled ! — -There is none, In all this cold and hollow world, no fount Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within A mother's heart.
Sida 27 - Your breast the pillow of his infancy, While to the fulness of your heart's glad heavings His fair cheek rose and fell ; and his bright hair Waved softly to your breath ! — You ne'er kept watch Beside him, till the last pale star had set, And morn, all dazzling, as in triumph, broke On your dim weary eye ; not yours the face Which, early faded through fond care for him, Hung o'er his sleep, and, duly as heaven's light, Was there to greet his wakening ! You ne'er smoothed His couch, ne'er sung him...