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The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions by ..., Volumen3
Thomas Humphry Ward
Sin vista previa disponible - 2018
The English Poets: Selections with Critical Introductions by Various Writers ...
Thomas Humphry Ward
Sin vista previa disponible - 2015
The English Poets: Selections With Critical Introductions by Various Writers ...
Thomas Humphry Ward
Sin vista previa disponible - 2019
admiration Ambrose Philips auld beauty beneath Birks of Aberfeldy blank verse blest born breast breath Burns charm Chatterton Cowper dear death delight Dryden Dunciad Eclogues English English poetry Epistle ev'ry eyes fair fame fancy fate feel flowers fool frae genius George Saintsbury grace grave Gray Gray's green Grongar Hill hand happy hear heart Heaven Horace Walpole human King labour lassie live Lord lyre lyric mind muse nature ne'er never night numbers nymph o'er once pain passion perhaps Pindaric pleasure poem poet poet's poetical poetry Pope Pope's praise pride prose round satire sense shade sing smile song soul spirit Spleen sweet taste tear tell thee things thou thought thro toil trembling truth Twas vale verse virtue wave weel Whig wind write youth
Página 257 - Other refuge have I none — Hangs my helpless soul on Thee : Leave, ah ! leave me not alone, Still support and comfort me ! , All my trust on Thee is stay'd, All my help from Thee I bring: Cover my defenceless head With the shadow of thy wing.
Página 282 - O'erhang his wavy bed: Now air is hush'd, save where the weak-eyed bat With short shrill shriek flits by on leathern wing, Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn, As oft he rises, 'midst the twilight path Against the pilgrim borne in heedless hum...
Página 256 - Lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly, While the nearer waters roll, While the tempest still is high; Hide me, O my Saviour, hide, Till the storm of life is past; Safe into the haven guide, O receive my soul at last.
Página 472 - I will obey, not willingly alone, But gladly, as the precept were her own ; And, while that face renews my filial grief, Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief, Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, A momentary dream that thou art she.
Página 458 - Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round, And while the bubbling and loud hissing urn Throws up a steamy column, and the cups That cheer but not inebriate wait on each, So let us welcome peaceful evening in.
Página 329 - Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.' THE EPITAPH Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frowned not on his humble birth, And melancholy marked him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere, . Heaven did a recompense as largely send: He gave to misery all he had, a tear: He gained from heaven ('twas all he wished) a friend.
Página 556 - Ye banks and braes and streams around The castle o' Montgomery, Green be your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There simmer first unfauld her robes, And there the langest tarry ; For there I took the last fareweel O' my sweet Highland Mary. How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life Was my...
Página 367 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Página 369 - Where once the cottage stood, the hawthorn grew, Remembrance wakes with all her busy train, Swells at my breast, and turns the past to pain. In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs - and God has given my share...
Página 477 - Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!