Boston Prize Poems: And Other Specimens of Dramatic PoetryJoseph T. Buckingham, 1824 - 130 oldal |
Részletek a könyvből
1 - 5 találat összesen 15 találatból.
12. oldal
... lit , Waking Laughter's merry swell , Arm in arm with fresh - eyed Wit , That waves his tingling lash , while Folly shakes his bell . From the feudal tower pale Terror rushing , Where the prophet bird's wail Dies along the dull gale 12.
... lit , Waking Laughter's merry swell , Arm in arm with fresh - eyed Wit , That waves his tingling lash , while Folly shakes his bell . From the feudal tower pale Terror rushing , Where the prophet bird's wail Dies along the dull gale 12.
15. oldal
... beauteous bosom heave again , — But all is dark and cold . In agony the father shakes ; Grief's choking note Swells in his throat , Each withered heart - string tugs and breaks ! Round her pale neck his dying arms he wreathes , 15.
... beauteous bosom heave again , — But all is dark and cold . In agony the father shakes ; Grief's choking note Swells in his throat , Each withered heart - string tugs and breaks ! Round her pale neck his dying arms he wreathes , 15.
23. oldal
... swell ; For who , where all are great , shall all excel ? But see , where , grouped by Shakspeare's hand , Those pale , disordered figures stand ! The passionate king , by stormy frenzy driven ; The Moor's frank heart , by jealous ...
... swell ; For who , where all are great , shall all excel ? But see , where , grouped by Shakspeare's hand , Those pale , disordered figures stand ! The passionate king , by stormy frenzy driven ; The Moor's frank heart , by jealous ...
27. oldal
... to thee shall joy's ecstatic throng Wake the wildly - pleasing song , And touch the golden lute , whilst round The lyre of more majestic sound * Mnemosyne . + Shakspeare . Breathes loud and deep with solemn swell , Till listening 27.
... to thee shall joy's ecstatic throng Wake the wildly - pleasing song , And touch the golden lute , whilst round The lyre of more majestic sound * Mnemosyne . + Shakspeare . Breathes loud and deep with solemn swell , Till listening 27.
28. oldal
... swell , Till listening Echo speaks from her enchanted cell . I. 3 . Silver Avon ! as the dirge Of evening , by thy twilight verge , Wandering winds sung faint and far , And Titan plunged his burning car Deep in the western surge , There ...
... swell , Till listening Echo speaks from her enchanted cell . I. 3 . Silver Avon ! as the dirge Of evening , by thy twilight verge , Wandering winds sung faint and far , And Titan plunged his burning car Deep in the western surge , There ...
Más kiadások - Összes megtekintése
Boston Prize Poems: And Other Specimens of Dramatic Poetry Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Nincs elérhető előnézet - 1824 |
Gyakori szavak és kifejezések
altars Ambition's Apollo Avon Avon's Bard beam beauty Behold blest bosom breast bright bright eye brow burst buskined charms chords classick clime clouds crown dark deed deep delight dome Drama E'en earth echoes enchanted fairy Falstaff fame fancy Fancy's fane feeling fire Garrick's gaze Genius gloom glory glowing grace grave Greece grief hail hand hath heart heaven honours immortal inspired laurel light lute lyre Macbeth madness magick matchless mighty mind mirth MONODY Muses musick Nature Nature's night numbers nymph o'er pale passions praise pride PRIZE PROLOGUE Rapture realms reign ROBERT TREAT PAINE rolls Rome round scene scenick seraph Shakspeare Shakspeare's shrine sigh slumbering smile soars song soul sound spell spirit springs stage strains sway sweet swell taste tears terror THEATRE thee Thespis thine thou throne trembling triumph Vice Virtue wake wand wave ween weeping wild wings wonder worlds unknown wreath
Népszerű szakaszok
106. oldal - A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling with a falling state. While Cato gives his little senate laws, What bosom beats not in his country's cause ? Who sees him act, but envies every deed ? Who hears him groan, and does not wish to bleed?
108. oldal - Nature fled. But forc'd, at length, her ancient reign to quit, She saw great Faustus lay the ghost of Wit; Exulting Folly hail'd the joyful day, And Pantomime and Song confirm'd her sway.
105. oldal - To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart, To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold...
105. oldal - Virtue confessed in human shape he draws, What Plato thought, and godlike Cato was : No common object to your sight displays, But what with pleasure heaven itself surveys, A brave man struggling in the storms of fate, And greatly falling, with a falling state.
109. oldal - Ah! let not Censure term our fate our choice, The stage but echoes back the public voice; The drama's laws the drama's patrons give, For we that live to please, must please, to live.
105. oldal - To make mankind in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, -and be what they behold: For this the tragic muse first trod the stage, Commanding tears to stream through every age; Tyrants no more .their savage nature kept, And foes to virtue wonder'd how they wept.
107. oldal - When Learning's triumph o'er her barbarous foes First reared the stage immortal Shakespeare rose: Each change of many-colour'd life he drew, Exhausted worlds and then imagined new : Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, And panting Time toiled after him in vain : His powerful strokes presiding Truth impressed And unresisted Passion stormed the breast.
108. oldal - And pantomime and song confirm'd her sway. But who the coming changes can presage, And mark the future periods of the stage? Perhaps, if skill could distant times explore, New Behns, new Durfeys, yet remain in store; Perhaps where Lear has raved, and Hamlet died, On flying cars new sorcerers may ride; Perhaps (for who can guess the effects of chance?) Here Hunt may box, or Mahomet may dance.
107. oldal - Jonson came, instructed from the school, To please in method, and invent by rule; His studious patience and laborious art, By regular approach essay'd the heart; Cold approbation gave the lingering bays; For those who durst not censure, scarce could praise A mortal born, he met the general doom, But left, like Egypt's kings, a lasting tomb.
107. oldal - The wits of Charles found easier ways to fame, Nor wish'd for Jonson's art, or Shakespeare's flame; Themselves they studied; as they felt, they writ; intrigue was plot, obscenity was wit.