The Lyre: Fugitive Poetry of the Nineteenth CenturyTilt and Bogue, 1841 - 344 pages |
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Page 4
... I , because my regal day Hath been arrayed in pleasure's dress ; Because I courted music's lay And beauty's dear caress ; Because I women loved , and wine , Am thence to be denied a shrine . TO A SLEEPING CHILD . BY PROFESSOR WILSON . ART.
... I , because my regal day Hath been arrayed in pleasure's dress ; Because I courted music's lay And beauty's dear caress ; Because I women loved , and wine , Am thence to be denied a shrine . TO A SLEEPING CHILD . BY PROFESSOR WILSON . ART.
Page 5
... dear the forms by fancy wove , We love them with a transient love , Thoughts from the living world intrude Even on her deepest solitude : But , lovely child ! thy magic stole At once into my inmost soul , With feelings as thy beauty ...
... dear the forms by fancy wove , We love them with a transient love , Thoughts from the living world intrude Even on her deepest solitude : But , lovely child ! thy magic stole At once into my inmost soul , With feelings as thy beauty ...
Page 18
... dear to Rome , But patriot valour ? Ye infernal Gods , Who now look wrathful from your deep abodes , Behold your ready sacrifice ! " He comes , CURTIUS . Armed as for battle , save no plumed 18 Curtius By Miss Landon.
... dear to Rome , But patriot valour ? Ye infernal Gods , Who now look wrathful from your deep abodes , Behold your ready sacrifice ! " He comes , CURTIUS . Armed as for battle , save no plumed 18 Curtius By Miss Landon.
Page 19
... dear love . She rushed upon his bosom silently , As if her life were in that last embrace . All was so still around , that every sob , And the heart's throb of agony , were heard . He clasped her , without power to soothe her grief ...
... dear love . She rushed upon his bosom silently , As if her life were in that last embrace . All was so still around , that every sob , And the heart's throb of agony , were heard . He clasped her , without power to soothe her grief ...
Page 20
... dear and gentle voice , that now is changed , or gone , Hath left within my bosom deep the thrilling of its tone , I find that murmur in your notes - they touch the chords of thought , And a sudden flow of tenderness across my soul is ...
... dear and gentle voice , that now is changed , or gone , Hath left within my bosom deep the thrilling of its tone , I find that murmur in your notes - they touch the chords of thought , And a sudden flow of tenderness across my soul is ...
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Common terms and phrases
ALARIC beams beauty Behave yoursel beneath billows bird blessed blue bosom bower breast breath bright bright eyes brow calm charm cheek cloud cold dark dead death deep doth dream e'en earth EAST INDIAMAN fair fame feeling Fireside fled flowers gaze gentle gleam glory glow gone grave grief harp hath hear heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hope hour KIRKSTALL ABBEY land life's light lips lonely look LORD BYRON lute LYRE mirth morning mountain murmur N. P. WILLIS ne'er NELL GWYN never night o'er pale passion rose round Sappho shine shore SICILIAN VESPERS sigh silent skies sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit spring stars storm stream sweet swell tears tempest thee thine thou art thou hast thou wert thought tones Twas Valentine's day voice wave weep wild wind wings young youth
Popular passages
Page 195 - ... tread. The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood ? Alas ! they all are in their graves ; the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie; but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth...
Page 158 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power : In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror...
Page 166 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Page 60 - And if my standard-bearer fall, as fall full well he may, For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray, Press where ye see my white plume shine, amidst the ranks of war, And be your oriflamme to-day the helmet of Navarre.
Page 195 - And now, when comes the calm mild day, as still such days will come, To call the squirrel and the bee from out their winter home ; When the sound of dropping nuts is heard, though all the trees are still, And twinkle in the smoky light the waters of the rill, The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.
Page 159 - They fought — like brave men, long and well ; They piled that ground with Moslem slain ; They conquered — but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won ; Then saw in death his eyelids close Calmly, as to a night's repose, Like flowers at set of sun.
Page 104 - O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight— Where are those dreamers now? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade.
Page 163 - AND thou hast walked about, (how strange a story!) In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago, When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And Time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous.
Page 86 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 278 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...