Outre-mer: A Pilgrimage Beyond the Sea, 2. kötetHarper, 1835 |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 25 találatból.
5. oldal
... say how long they had been handed down by tradition , ere they were taken from the lips of the wandering minstrel , and recorded in a more perma- nent form ? The seven centuries of the Moorish sovereignty in Spain are the heroic ages of ...
... say how long they had been handed down by tradition , ere they were taken from the lips of the wandering minstrel , and recorded in a more perma- nent form ? The seven centuries of the Moorish sovereignty in Spain are the heroic ages of ...
7. oldal
... say a prayer , and then exclaims , " Now bring me my infant boy , that I may give him suck , as my last farewell ! " Is there in all the writings of Homer an incident more touching or more true to nature ? The ancient Spanish ballads ...
... say a prayer , and then exclaims , " Now bring me my infant boy , that I may give him suck , as my last farewell ! " Is there in all the writings of Homer an incident more touching or more true to nature ? The ancient Spanish ballads ...
10. oldal
... says he to King Alfonso ; " sweet to us is liberty , and bond- age odious ! " — " The king may give his castles to the Frank , but not his vassals ; for kings them- selves hold no dominion over the free - will ! " and his followers had ...
... says he to King Alfonso ; " sweet to us is liberty , and bond- age odious ! " — " The king may give his castles to the Frank , but not his vassals ; for kings them- selves hold no dominion over the free - will ! " and his followers had ...
14. oldal
... he has been a prisoner seven years : to this the king replies , " Hush , hush , Virgil ; it takes three more to make ten . " - " Sire , " says Virgil with the same philosophical composure , " if your 14 ANCIENT SPANISH BALLADS .
... he has been a prisoner seven years : to this the king replies , " Hush , hush , Virgil ; it takes three more to make ten . " - " Sire , " says Virgil with the same philosophical composure , " if your 14 ANCIENT SPANISH BALLADS .
15. oldal
... says the king.— " My coat is torn , " says Virgil ; " I am not in trim to make a leg . " But this difficulty is removed by the promise of a new suit from the king ; and they go to dinner . Virgil delights both knights and dam- sels ...
... says the king.— " My coat is torn , " says Virgil ; " I am not in trim to make a leg . " But this difficulty is removed by the promise of a new suit from the king ; and they go to dinner . Virgil delights both knights and dam- sels ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
Acqua Paola Alarcos Alban Lake Alberto Alhama amid Andalusia ballads beautiful beneath Bernardo del Carpio breath bright Castel Gandolfo castle character charms choly Christian church cross crystal water Curcio dark death delight devotional poetry divine Don Valentin doth dream earth earthly Eternal Eusebio feeling feet gate Genoa gloomy glorious glory Granada Guadalquivir hand heart heaven hill holy hour imagination jaleo Jorge Manrique journey king lake land landscape language light look luxuriant magnificent melan midnight mind monk Montefiascone Moorish Moors moral morning mountains native nature night palaces Pardillo passed poem poetic poetry of Spain poets priest Riccia Roman Rome ruins saints says scene shade shadow silent sings song soul sound Spanish ballads Spanish poetry spirit stands stood streets sword thee thought Tizona tower tree Valdepeñas village Virgin voice walls wild wind
Népszerű szakaszok
232. oldal - Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.
26. oldal - FAIR stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
82. oldal - Our lives are rivers, gliding free To that unfathomed, boundless sea, The silent grave ! Thither all earthly pomp and boast Roll, to be swallowed up and lost In one dark wave. Thither the mighty torrents stray, Thither the brook pursues its way, And tinkling rill. There all are equal. Side by side The poor man and the son of pride Lie calm and still.
220. oldal - Now therein of all sciences — I speak still of human, and according to the human conceit — is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way as will entice any man to enter into it. Nay, he doth, as if your journey should lie through a fair vineyard, at the very first give you a cluster of grapes, that full of that taste you may long to pass further.
31. oldal - Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that swingeth And tolls its perfume on the passing air Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer : Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane most catholic and solemn Which God hath plann'd,— To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply, Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, Its dome the sky.
233. oldal - The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur of the...
240. oldal - With regard to poetry in general, I am convinced, the more I think of it, that he and all of us— Scott, Southey, Wordsworth, Moore, Campbell, I, — are all in the wrong, one as much as another; that we are upon a wrong revolutionary poetical system, or systems, not worth a damn in itself, and from which none but Rogers and Crabbe are free; and that the present and next generations will finally be of this opinion.
231. oldal - Or find some ruin 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-discover'd spires ; And hears their simple bell ; and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
124. oldal - THE Moorish King rides up and down Through Granada's royal town; From Elvira's gates to those Of Bivarambla on he goes. Woe is me, Alhama...
169. oldal - Full oft by holy feet our ground was trod, Of clerks good plenty here you mote espy. A little, round, fat, oily man of God, Was one I chiefly mark'd among the fry : He had a roguish twinkle in his eye, And shone all glittering with ungodly dew, If a tight damsel chaunc'd to trippen by ; Which when observ'd, he shrunk into his mew, And straight would recollect his piety anew.