The wreath; a collection of poems, from celebrated English authorsSilas Andrus, 1830 - 252 oldal |
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
agen aspiring air beatific beneath blest blood bloom bosom breast breath call'd calm charms cheer clouds dark Death deep desert shore dost dread e'er earth Edwin eternal ev'n eyes fair faithless fame fancy fate fear fire flame forlorn gale gentle gloomy glory grave Greece groves hand heart Heaven Hermit horror hour Indolence light lonely lov'd lyre mind monarch morn mountains mourn Muse Musidora nature Nature's ne'er never night nought o'er pain peace Philomela pity plain pleasure praise pride rage repose rills rise round Rous'd rude scene seem'd seraph shade shore sigh skies sleep smil'd smile soft song sooth sorrow soul sound spleen Stamp'd stings stream sublime sweet tears tempest thee thine thou thro toil trembling Twas tyrant vale vext virtue voice wandering wave weary ween Whate'er wild wings wretch youth
Népszerű szakaszok
12. oldal - The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! X.
180. oldal - Basks in the glare, or stems the tepid wave, And thanks his Gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, His first, best country ever is, at home. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare, And estimate the blessings which they share, Though patriots flatter, still shall wisdom find An equal portion dealt to all mankind, As different good, by Art or Nature given, To different nations makes their blessings even.
189. oldal - Stern o'er each bosom Reason holds her state, With daring aims irregularly great, Pride in their port, defiance in their eye, I see the lords of human kind pass by...
226. oldal - I care not, fortune, what you me deny : You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face ; You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
185. oldal - Thus every good his native wilds impart, Imprints the patriot passion on his heart ; And e'en those ills that round his mansion rise, Enhance the bliss his scanty fund supplies. Dear is that shed to which his soul conforms, And dear that hill which lifts him to the storms ; And as a child, when scaring sounds molest, Clings close and closer to the mother's breast, So the loud torrent, and the whirlwind's roar, But bind him to his native mountains more.
185. oldal - That first excites desire, and then supplies ; Unknown to them, when sensual pleasures cloy, To fill the languid pause with finer joy ; Unknown those powers that raise the soul to flame, Catch every nerve, and vibrate through the frame. Their level life is but a...
192. oldal - In every government, though terrors reign, Though tyrant kings or tyrant laws restrain, How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure...
166. oldal - Works in the secret deep ; shoots, steaming, thence The fair profusion that o'erspreads the spring ; Flings from the sun direct the flaming day; Feeds every creature; hurls the tempest forth ; And, as on earth this grateful change revolves, With transport touches all the springs of life.
165. oldal - Shoots full perfection through the swelling year; And oft thy voice in dreadful thunder speaks: And oft at dawn, deep noon, or falling eve, By brooks and groves, in hollow-whispering gales. Thy bounty shines in Autumn unconfined, And spreads a common feast for all that lives. In Winter awful thou ! with clouds and storms Around thee thrown, tempest o'er tempest roll'd, Majestic darkness! on the whirlwind's wing ' Riding sublime, thou bid'st the world adore, And humblest nature with thy northern blast.
128. oldal - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.