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arms banner beauty bell beneath blessed blood blooming band brave bonny lasse breast breath bright brow Bruges Camoens chime Coimbra cried dark dead death deep Diego Perez dreams earth echo eyes fair fame Felicia Hemans fell fled flow Fontenoy gallant galloped Ghent gleams glorious glory glow golden hand Hans Memling happy hath hear heard heart Heaven hour J. G. Lockhart King land light lone Lord Lord Byron Luis de Camoens maiden Mary Ambree MONDEGO Moorish morning mourn never night numbers o'er pale passed peal plain pride proud quaint rich roar Robert Southey Roland rose round shade shadow shee shine shore shout silent silver sing sleep smiled song soul sound stood stream sweet sword Tagus tears thee thou thought throng toll tomb towers trembling VALLADOLID voice Waterloo wave weeping William Lisle Bowles wind
163. oldal - 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.
174. oldal - Yet there is time!" IV At Aershot, up leaped of a sudden the sun, And against him the cattle stood black every one, To stare through the mist at us galloping past, And I saw my stout galloper Roland at last, With resolute shoulders, each butting away The haze, as some bluff river headland its spray...
162. oldal - Cameron's gathering" rose, The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes: How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills, Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills Their...
174. oldal - Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then shortened each stirrup, and set the pique right, Rebuckled the cheek-strap, chained slacker the bit, Nor galloped less steadily Roland a whit.
173. oldal - I sprang to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gate-bolts undrew;
72. oldal - The sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must weep, The tender azure of the unruffled deep, The orange tints that gild the greenest bough, The torrents that from cliff to valley leap, The vine on high, the willow branch below, Mix'd in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow.
7. oldal - Hark ! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note ? Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath ? Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote ; Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath Tyrants and tyrants' slaves ? — the fires of death, The bale-fires flash on high : — from rock to rock Each volley tells that thousands cease to breathe ; Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc, Red Battle stamps his foot, and nations feel the shock.
256. oldal - SIMON DANZ has come home again, From cruising about with his buccaneers ; He has singed the beard of the King of Spain, And carried away the Dean of Jaen And sold him in Algiers. In his house by the Maese, with its roof of tiles, And weathercocks flying aloft in air, There are silver tankards of antique styles, Plunder of convent and castle, and piles Of carpets rich and rare. In his tulip-garden there by the town, Overlooking the sluggish stream, With his Moorish cap and dressing-gown, The old sea-captain,...
244. oldal - The good dame looked from her cottage, At the close of the pleasant day, And cheerily called to her little son Outside the door at play, "Come, Peter, come! I want you to go, While there is light to see, To the hut of the blind old man who lives Across the dike, for me, And take these cakes I made for him — They are hot and smoking yet; You have time enough to go and come Before the sun is set.
162. oldal - Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness. And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated : who could guess If ever more should meet those mutual eyes, Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!