The Forest Sanctuary: And Other PoemsJ. Murray, 1825 - 205 sidor |
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Sida 4
... burst On the parch'd traveller in his hour of thirst , E'en thus they haunt me with sweet sounds , till worn By quenchless longings , to my soul I say- Oh ! for the dove's swift wings , that I might flee away , III . And find mine ark ...
... burst On the parch'd traveller in his hour of thirst , E'en thus they haunt me with sweet sounds , till worn By quenchless longings , to my soul I say- Oh ! for the dove's swift wings , that I might flee away , III . And find mine ark ...
Sida 31
... burst of passion ! - -on his breast , Like a bird panting yet from fear she lay , But blest - in misery's very lap - yet blest ! - Oh love , love , strong as death ! —from such an hour Pressing out joy by thine immortal power , Holy and ...
... burst of passion ! - -on his breast , Like a bird panting yet from fear she lay , But blest - in misery's very lap - yet blest ! - Oh love , love , strong as death ! —from such an hour Pressing out joy by thine immortal power , Holy and ...
Sida 36
... free the foaming swiftness of your course ! -I burst from those that held me back , and fell Ev'n on his neck , and cried- " Friend , brother ! fare thee well ! " LXVIII . Did he not say " Farewell ? " 36 THE FOREST SANCTUARY . 36.
... free the foaming swiftness of your course ! -I burst from those that held me back , and fell Ev'n on his neck , and cried- " Friend , brother ! fare thee well ! " LXVIII . Did he not say " Farewell ? " 36 THE FOREST SANCTUARY . 36.
Sida 40
... burst of day For which th ' uprooting of an oak makes way ; - They sweep the colouring mists from off our sight , They touch with fire , thought's graven page , the roll Stamp'd with past years - and lo ! it shrivels as a scroll ! LXXV ...
... burst of day For which th ' uprooting of an oak makes way ; - They sweep the colouring mists from off our sight , They touch with fire , thought's graven page , the roll Stamp'd with past years - and lo ! it shrivels as a scroll ! LXXV ...
Sida 41
... burst , its darkness teem'd With such pent storms of thought ! -again I fled- I fled , a refuge from man's face to gain , Scarce conscious when I paus'd , entering a lonely fane . LXXVII . A mighty minster , dim , and proud , and vast ...
... burst , its darkness teem'd With such pent storms of thought ! -again I fled- I fled , a refuge from man's face to gain , Scarce conscious when I paus'd , entering a lonely fane . LXXVII . A mighty minster , dim , and proud , and vast ...
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The Forest Sanctuary: And Other Poems Felicia Dorothea Browne Hemans,Mrs. Hemans Obegränsad förhandsgranskning - 1825 |
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ancient arm'd art thou Bartram's Travels bended Bow blast blue streams bowers brave breast breath breeze bright land brow burst cave chant cheek dark dead death deep didst Doth dreams earth ev'n fade faint fair brow faithful band falchion farewell father fled floating forest fount gaze glance gleam gloom grave hath hear heard heart Heaven hour house of sleep hush'd Ianthis joyous Lake of Lucerne leave light lone look look'd lov'd midst mighty mirth mournful night o'er Odin Odin's Hall pale phantom horses pines pour'd rest Richard Coeur-de-Lion rills Rio verde rocks Sea-king seas seem'd shades shadow shining shore silent sleep smile soft song soul sound spirit spring step stood streams sung sweet sword tears thee Theseus thine thou art Thou hast thou wert thought tomb tone voice pass'd wake wave weep wild wind woods wouldst thou young youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 188 - Yet more ! the billows and the depths have more ! High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle-thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave...
Sida 91 - I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell; To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intensely; and his countenance soon Brightened with joy; for from within were heard Murmurings, whereby the monitor expressed Mysterious union with its native sea.
Sida 97 - And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.
Sida 146 - He lived — for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain ; Why comes not death to those who mourn ? He never smiled again ! There stood proud forms around his throne, The stately and the brave, But which could fill the place of one...
Sida 98 - In the solitude of the seas, we hail a star as a friend from whom we have long been separated. Among the Portuguese and the Spaniards peculiar motives seem to increase this feeling ; a religious sentiment attaches them to a constellation, the form of which recalls the sign of the faith planted by their ancestors in the deserts of the New World.
Sida 92 - The vine had clasped its huge folds round the trunk, and from thence had wound about every branch and twig, until the mighty tree had withered in its embrace. It seemed like Laocoon struggling ineffectually in the hideous coils of the monster Python.
Sida 145 - THE bark that held a prince went down. The sweeping waves roll'd on ; And what was England's glorious crown To him that wept a son? He lived — for life may long be borne Ere sorrow break its chain; Why comes not death to those who mourn? — He never smiled again!
Sida 133 - We call them far through the silent night, And they speak not from cave or hill; We know, thou bird! that their land is bright, But say, do they love there still ? 1 1 ANSWER TO THE MESSENGER BIRD.
Sida 199 - RING, joyous chords! — ring out again! A swifter still, and a wilder strain ! They are here — the fair face and the careless heart, And stars shall wane ere the mirthful part. — But I met a dimly mournful glance, In a sudden turn of the flying dance ; I heard the tone of a heavy sigh In a pause of the thrilling melody...
Sida 3 - They have been with me through the dreamy night — The blessed household voices, wont to fill My heart's clear depths with unalloy'd delight ! I hear them still, unchanged: — though some from earth Are music parted, and the tones of mirth — Wild, silvery tones, that rang through days more bright ! Have died in others, — yet to me they come, Singing of boyhood back — the voices of my home!