Golden leaves from the works of poets and painters, ed. by R. BellRobert Bell 1872 |
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Sida ix
... Dead of Night , 291 Marsyas , 361 Love Hawking , . 292 ARNOULD , SIR JOSEPH . BELL , ROBERT . Hospice of St. Bernard , . 311 The Messenger Dove , 387 AYTOUN , WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE . BISHOP , SAMUEL . Charles Edward in Exile , 346 To his ...
... Dead of Night , 291 Marsyas , 361 Love Hawking , . 292 ARNOULD , SIR JOSEPH . BELL , ROBERT . Hospice of St. Bernard , . 311 The Messenger Dove , 387 AYTOUN , WILLIAM EDMONDSTOUNE . BISHOP , SAMUEL . Charles Edward in Exile , 346 To his ...
Sida xiii
... dead , 13 Go , Lovely Rose , 50 50 51 SMITH , ALEXANDER . WALPOLE , HORACE . Intellectual Sympathy , . 364 The Entail ,. III SMITH , CHARLOTTE , WILSON , JOHN . The Swallow , Angling in the Mountains , 240 158 SMOLLETT , TOBIAS ...
... dead , 13 Go , Lovely Rose , 50 50 51 SMITH , ALEXANDER . WALPOLE , HORACE . Intellectual Sympathy , . 364 The Entail ,. III SMITH , CHARLOTTE , WILSON , JOHN . The Swallow , Angling in the Mountains , 240 158 SMOLLETT , TOBIAS ...
Sida 12
... skin with hateful hue ; But , when she saw no help might him restore , Him to a dainty flower she did transmew , Which in that cloth was wrought , as if it lively grew . 1 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . 1554-1586 . LOVE IS DEAD . 17.
... skin with hateful hue ; But , when she saw no help might him restore , Him to a dainty flower she did transmew , Which in that cloth was wrought , as if it lively grew . 1 SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . 1554-1586 . LOVE IS DEAD . 17.
Sida 13
Robert Bell. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . 1554-1586 . LOVE IS DEAD . RING out your bells , let mourning shews be spread , For Love is dead ! All Love is dead , infected With plague of deep disdain , Worth , or not worth , rejected , And faith ...
Robert Bell. SIR PHILIP SIDNEY . 1554-1586 . LOVE IS DEAD . RING out your bells , let mourning shews be spread , For Love is dead ! All Love is dead , infected With plague of deep disdain , Worth , or not worth , rejected , And faith ...
Sida 14
... dead . Love is not dead but sleepeth In her unmatched mind , Where she his counsel keepeth Till one desert she find . Therefore from so vile fancy , To call such wit a frenzy , Who Love can temper thus , Good Lord deliver us . FRANCIS ...
... dead . Love is not dead but sleepeth In her unmatched mind , Where she his counsel keepeth Till one desert she find . Therefore from so vile fancy , To call such wit a frenzy , Who Love can temper thus , Good Lord deliver us . FRANCIS ...
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Golden Leaves from the Works of Poets and Painters, Ed. by R. Bell Robert Bell Ingen förhandsgranskning - 2019 |
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BAUCIS AND PHILEMON beam beauty beneath bids bird blessed Bouillabaisse bowers breast breath bright bright land charm cheek churchyard clouds dancing dark DAVID MACBETH MOIR dead dear death deep delight dewy doth dreams earth eyes fair gaze grace grave green hand hath hear heart Heaven hill JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS JONATHAN SWIFT lady land light live Lochinvar lonely look Love's lyre maid moon morn mountain muse ne'er nest never night nymph o'er pride Radclyffe RICHARD LOVELACE rose round sche shade shining shore sigh sight silent sing SIR JOSEPH ARNOULD sleep smile soft song soon the flowers soul sound spirit spring will fade stars Stothard stream sweet thee thine THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES thought toil trees Twas vale voice wandering waves weep wild WILLIAM HAYWARD ROBERTS winds wings wirra-sthru woods young youth
Populära avsnitt
Sida 102 - THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds...
Sida 49 - Go, lovely Rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died.
Sida 41 - When youth and blood are warmer: But being spent. the worse. and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy. but use your time. And while ye may go marry: For having lost but once your prime.
Sida 55 - And, stretched out all the chimney's length, Basks at the fire his hairy strength, And crop-full out of doors he flings, Ere the first cock his matin rings. Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, By whispering winds soon lulled asleep.
Sida 166 - But hark ! a rap comes gently to the door ; Jenny, wha kens the meaning o' the same, Tells how a neebor lad cam' o'er the moor, To do some errands, and convoy her hame. The wily mother sees the conscious flame Sparkle in Jenny's e'e, and flush her cheek ; With heart-struck anxious care, inquires his name, While Jenny hafflins is afraid to speak : Weel pleased the mother hears it's nae wild, worthless rake. Wi...
Sida 44 - SWEET Day, so cool, so calm, so bright, The bridal of the earth and sky, The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue angry and brave Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My Music shows ye have your closes, And all must die. Only a sweet and virtuous soul, Like season'd timber, never gives ; But though the whole world turn to coal, Then chiefly...
Sida 21 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove: O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark, That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Sida 254 - But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow, But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 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.
Sida 110 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discovered spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
Sida 216 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.