The Poetical Works of Rogers, Campbell, J. Montgomery, Lamb, and Kirke White: Complete in One VolumeCarey & Lea, 1830 - 496 pages |
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Page 18
... dead son , " said he , " for any living ants we may live evermore . O'er his dead son the gallant Ormond sigh'd . Ormond bore the loss with patience and dignity : It is a state of rewards and punishments ; and , like son in Christendom ...
... dead son , " said he , " for any living ants we may live evermore . O'er his dead son the gallant Ormond sigh'd . Ormond bore the loss with patience and dignity : It is a state of rewards and punishments ; and , like son in Christendom ...
Page 19
... dead , on the warm turf we lie , And from the slack hand drops the gather'd rose ! lage on the birth of an heir - General Reflections While many an emmet comes with curious eye ; on Human Life - The Subject proposed - Child- And on her ...
... dead , on the warm turf we lie , And from the slack hand drops the gather'd rose ! lage on the birth of an heir - General Reflections While many an emmet comes with curious eye ; on Human Life - The Subject proposed - Child- And on her ...
Page 20
... Dead ; Trembles and thrills and weeps as they inspire , Burns as they burn , and with congenial fire ! Like Her most gentle , most unfortunate , ( 10 ) Crown'd but to die - who in her chamber sate Musing with Plato , though the horn was ...
... Dead ; Trembles and thrills and weeps as they inspire , Burns as they burn , and with congenial fire ! Like Her most gentle , most unfortunate , ( 10 ) Crown'd but to die - who in her chamber sate Musing with Plato , though the horn was ...
Page 32
... dead , Shakes if a cricket's cry he hears ! Oh ! she was good as she was fair ; None - none on earth above her ! As pure in thought as angels are , To know her was to love her . When little , and her eyes , her voice , Her every gesture ...
... dead , Shakes if a cricket's cry he hears ! Oh ! she was good as she was fair ; None - none on earth above her ! As pure in thought as angels are , To know her was to love her . When little , and her eyes , her voice , Her every gesture ...
Page 36
... dead , When , by his lamp , to that mysterious Guide , On whose still counsels all his hopes relied , That Oracle to man in mercy given , Meanwhile the deities of America assemble in Whose voice is truth , whose wisdom is from heaven ...
... dead , When , by his lamp , to that mysterious Guide , On whose still counsels all his hopes relied , That Oracle to man in mercy given , Meanwhile the deities of America assemble in Whose voice is truth , whose wisdom is from heaven ...
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Common terms and phrases
age to age amidst arms art thou beauty behold beneath blest blood bosom breast breath CAPEL LOFFT Charles Lamb charm clouds dark dead death deep delight dream earth eternal father fear fire flame flowers gaze gloom glory Gondoline grace grave Greenland grief hand hath heard heart heaven Henry Kirke White hope hour Javan land light living lonely look'd Lord lyre mind moon morning mother mountains Muse Nature's never night Note numbers o'er once pale pass'd peace Petrarch PSALM rapture rest rise rock rose round scene seem'd shade shine shore sigh silent sing sleep slumbers smile song SONNET sorrow soul spirit star stood storm sublime sweet tears tempest thee Theodric thine thou thought tomb trembling turn'd vale Venice vex'd voice wandering waves weep wild wind wings woods youth
Popular passages
Page 150 - Where furious Frank, and fiery Hun, Shout in their sulph'rous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave. Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave ! And charge with all thy chivalry! Few, few, shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet. And every turf beneath their
Page 349 - There is no union here of hearts, That finds not here an end : Were this frail world our only rest. Living or dying, none were blest. Beyond the flight of Time, Beyond this vale of death, There surely is some blessed clime Where life is not a breath,
Page 138 - blood, murdered all the relations of Logan, even my women and children. •• There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature : — this called on me for revenge. — I have fought for it. — I have killed many — I have fully glutted my vengeance,
Page 150 - rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight. When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery. By torch and trumpet fast array'd. Each horseman drew his battle-blade. And furious every charger neigh'd, To join the dreadful revelry.
Page 149 - YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND. A NAVAL ODE. YE mariners of England ! That guard our native seas. Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze ! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe! And sweep through the deep, While the stormy
Page 259 - He shall come down, like showers Upon the fruitful earth, And love, joy, hope, like flowers, Spring in his path to birth : Before Him on the mountains, Shall Peace the herald go ; And righteousness in fountains From hill to valley flow. Arabia's desert-ranger. To Him shall bow the knee ; The Kthiopian stranger His glory come to see : With offerings of devotion,
Page 113 - T is distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue. Thus, with delight we linger to survey The promised joys of life's unmeasured way ; Thus, from afar, each dim-discover'd scene More pleasing seems than all the past hath been; And every
Page 152 - Then pledged we the wine-cup, and fondly I »wore From my home and my weeping friends never to part: My little ones kiss'd me a thousand times o'er. And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fullness of heart. Stay, stay with us,—rest, thou art weary and worn ; And fain was their war-broken soldier to stay . But sorrow
Page 151 - LORD ULLTN'S DAUGHTER. A CHIEFTAIN, to the Highlands bound, Cries, " Boatman, do not tarry ! And I'll give thee a silver pound, To row us o'er the ferry."— •• Now who be ye, would cross Lochgyle, This dark and stormy water ?"
Page 401 - upon the day, A bliss that would not go away, A sweet forewarning? TO CHARLES LLOYD, AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR. ALONE, obscure, without a friend, A cheerless, solitary thing, Why seeks my Lloyd the stranger out? What offering can the stranger bring Of social scenes, home-bred delights, That him in aught compensate may For Stowey's pleasant winter