Patriotic Song: a Book of English Verse: Being an Anthology of the Patriotic Poetry of the British Empire from the Defeat of the Spanish Armada Till the Death of Queen Victoria ...Arnold, 1903 - 363 páginas |
Dentro del libro
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Página 14
... face ; Steed threatens steed , in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tents The armourers , accomplishing the knights , With busy hammers closing rivets up , Give dreadful note of preparation : The ...
... face ; Steed threatens steed , in high and boastful neighs Piercing the night's dull ear ; and from the tents The armourers , accomplishing the knights , With busy hammers closing rivets up , Give dreadful note of preparation : The ...
Página 15
... face there is no note How dread an army hath enrounded him ; Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour Unto the weary and all - watched night , But freshly looks and over - bears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty ; That ...
... face there is no note How dread an army hath enrounded him ; Nor doth he dedicate one jot of colour Unto the weary and all - watched night , But freshly looks and over - bears attaint With cheerful semblance and sweet majesty ; That ...
Página 25
... the air he went And palaces and temples rent ; And Cæsar's head at last Did through his laurels blast . " Tis madness to resist or blame The face of MARVELL 25 ANDREW MARVELL (1620-1678) HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND.
... the air he went And palaces and temples rent ; And Cæsar's head at last Did through his laurels blast . " Tis madness to resist or blame The face of MARVELL 25 ANDREW MARVELL (1620-1678) HORATIAN ODE UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND.
Página 26
... face of angry Heaven's flame ; And if we would speak true , Much to the man is due Who , from his private gardens , where He lived reserved and austere ( As if his highest plot To plant the bergamot ) , Could by industrious valour climb ...
... face of angry Heaven's flame ; And if we would speak true , Much to the man is due Who , from his private gardens , where He lived reserved and austere ( As if his highest plot To plant the bergamot ) , Could by industrious valour climb ...
Página 32
... face again . The wealthy Tagus and the wealthier Rhine The glory of their towns no more shall boast , The Seine , that would with Belgian rivers join , Shall find her lustre stained and traffic lost . The venturous merchant , who ...
... face again . The wealthy Tagus and the wealthier Rhine The glory of their towns no more shall boast , The Seine , that would with Belgian rivers join , Shall find her lustre stained and traffic lost . The venturous merchant , who ...
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Otras ediciones - Ver todas
Patriotic Song: A Book of English Verse: Being an Anthology of the Patriotic ... Arthur Stanley Megaw Sin vista previa disponible - 2015 |
Patriotic Song: A Book of English Verse: Being an Anthology of the Patriotic ... Arthur Stanley Megaw Sin vista previa disponible - 2018 |
Términos y frases comunes
Algernon Charles Swinburne battle beneath blood blow Bonnie Dundee boys brave breath breeze bright Britain bugles blown burning captain carries the gun Charlie cheer crown dark Dark Rosaleen dear death deep earth England English eyes face fair fame Felicia Hemans fight flag Flag of England Francis Turner Palgrave gallant glorious glory grave green grey guard hame hand harp hath hear heard heart Hearts of oak heroes hills honour island Isle Kenmure's King land light live Lord mighty morn mother ne'er never night o'er ocean peace Plymouth Hoe Poems pride proud Queen Richard Chenevix Trench Robert Burns Rosaleen round round shot sail Samian wine shine ship shore sing sleep snotties soldier song sons soul sound spirit stand star storm sweet sword tears thee There's thine Thomas Moore thou thunder towers voice warrior waves weep wild wind
Pasajes populares
Página 94 - For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, Seem here no painful inch to gain, Far back, through creeks and inlets making, Comes silent, flooding in, the main.
Página 211 - In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs — and God has given my share — I still had hopes, my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose...
Página 24 - CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed...
Página 14 - From camp to camp through the foul womb of night The hum of either army stilly sounds, That the fixed sentinels almost receive The secret whispers of each other's watch...
Página 46 - Bring me my bow of burning gold! Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire! I will not cease from mental fight, nor shall my sword sleep in my hand, till we have built Jerusalem in England's green and pleasant land.
Página 15 - God of battles ! steel my soldiers' hearts! Possess them not with fear ; take from them now The sense of reckoning, if the opposed numbers Pluck their hearts from them ! — Not to-day, O Lord, O not to-day, think not upon the fault My father made in compassing the crown...
Página 5 - 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.
Página 67 - Trust not for freedom to the Franks — They have a king who buys and sells : In native swords and native ranks, The only hope of courage dwells ; But Turkish force and Latin fraud Would break your shield, however broad. !$•' Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! Our virgins dance beneath the shade...
Página 83 - Her court was pure ; her life serene ; God gave her peace ; her land reposed ; A thousand claims to reverence closed In her as Mother, Wife and Queen ; 142 The Epic 143 " And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet...
Página 67 - Must we but blush ? — Our fathers bled. Earth ! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead ! Of the three hundred grant but three To make a new Thermopylae ! What, silent still ? and silent all ? Ah ! no : the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, And answer, "Let one living head, But one, arise— we come, we come ! " 'Tis but the living who are dumb.