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 14
... morning - hour , Than when the shades of Time serenely fall On every broken arch and ivied wall ; The tender images we love to trace , Steal from each year a melancholy grace ! And as the sparks of social love expand , As the heart ...
... morning - hour , Than when the shades of Time serenely fall On every broken arch and ivied wall ; The tender images we love to trace , Steal from each year a melancholy grace ! And as the sparks of social love expand , As the heart ...
Page 22
... morning ray Purpling the orient - till it breaks away , And burns and blazes into glorious day ! But happier still is he who bends to trace That sun , the soul , just dawning in the face ; The burst , the glow , the animating strife ...
... morning ray Purpling the orient - till it breaks away , And burns and blazes into glorious day ! But happier still is he who bends to trace That sun , the soul , just dawning in the face ; The burst , the glow , the animating strife ...
Page 23
... Morning , and Evening , brings Its holy office ; and the sabbath - bell , That over wood and wild and mountain - dell Wanders so far , chasing all thoughts unholy With sounds most musical , most melancholy , Not on his ear is lost ...
... Morning , and Evening , brings Its holy office ; and the sabbath - bell , That over wood and wild and mountain - dell Wanders so far , chasing all thoughts unholy With sounds most musical , most melancholy , Not on his ear is lost ...
Page 28
... morning fills the fields with rosy light ; Be thine to blend , nor thine a vulgar aim , Repose with dignity , with quiet fame . Here no state - chambers in long line unfold , Bright with broad mirrors , rough with fretted gold ; Yet ...
... morning fills the fields with rosy light ; Be thine to blend , nor thine a vulgar aim , Repose with dignity , with quiet fame . Here no state - chambers in long line unfold , Bright with broad mirrors , rough with fretted gold ; Yet ...
Page 29
... morning - dream my pillow flies , To waking sense what brighter visions rise ! O mark ! again the courses of the Sun , At Guido's call , ( 5 ) their round of glory run ! Again the rosy Hours resume their flight , Obscured and lost in ...
... morning - dream my pillow flies , To waking sense what brighter visions rise ! O mark ! again the courses of the Sun , At Guido's call , ( 5 ) their round of glory run ! Again the rosy Hours resume their flight , Obscured and lost in ...
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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