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37. oldal - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
140. oldal - He had lived for his love, for his country he died, They were all that to life had entwined him ; Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried, Nor long will his love stay behind him. Oh ! make her a grave where the sunbeams rest When they promise a glorious morrow ; They'll shine o'er her sleep, like a smile from the West, From her own loved island of sorrow.
109. oldal - Struck by the envious wrath of man or god, Have sunk, extinct in their refulgent prime; And some yet live, treading the thorny road, Which leads, through toil and hate, to Fame's serene abode. VI But now, thy youngest, dearest one, has perished The...
641. oldal - Ay, I had plann'd full many a sanguine scheme Of earthly happiness — romantic schemes, And fraught with loveliness ; and it is hard To feel the hand of Death arrest one's steps, Throw a chill blight o'er all one's budding hopes, And hurl one's soul untimely to the shades, Lost in the gaping gulf of blank oblivion.
251. oldal - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid : Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.
109. oldal - But now, thy youngest, dearest one has perished, The nursling of thy widowhood, who grew, Like a pale flower by some sad maiden cherished And fed with true-love tears instead of dew ; Most musical of mourners, weep anew! Thy extreme hope, the loveliest and the last, The bloom, whose petals, nipt before they blew, Died on the promise of the fruit, is waste; The broken lily lies — the storm is overpast.
170. oldal - Twas odour fled As soon as shed ; 'Twas morning's winged dream ; 'Twas a light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream : Oh ! 'twas light that ne'er can shine again On life's dull stream.
606. oldal - Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep...
356. oldal - Whose echoes they are ; yet all love is sweet, Given or returned. Common as light is love, And its familiar voice wearies not ever. Like the wide heaven, the all-sustaining air, It makes the reptile equal to the God ; They who inspire it most are fortunate, As I am now : but those who feel it most Are happier still, after long sufferings, As I shall soon become.