The Poetical Works of Charles Mackay |
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Page xi
... Forlorn · · By the Meadow Stile ' Mid the New - mown Hay Evermore - Nevermore Say no more that Love deceives Hush , Nature The Wines Good - Morrow The Woodman · A Song , after a Toast The Three Flowers Dying . - A Chorus of Angels The ...
... Forlorn · · By the Meadow Stile ' Mid the New - mown Hay Evermore - Nevermore Say no more that Love deceives Hush , Nature The Wines Good - Morrow The Woodman · A Song , after a Toast The Three Flowers Dying . - A Chorus of Angels The ...
Page 25
... forlorn ! Better unborn ! We die , we die ! -alas , alas , we die ! ' XX . Sir Gilbert rose upon his arm , And still the accents , sad and sweet , Fill'd the clear air ! We die , we die ! ' His heart was throbbing he heard it beat . Was ...
... forlorn ! Better unborn ! We die , we die ! -alas , alas , we die ! ' XX . Sir Gilbert rose upon his arm , And still the accents , sad and sweet , Fill'd the clear air ! We die , we die ! ' His heart was throbbing he heard it beat . Was ...
Page 36
... forlorn : And Porphyr scowl'd , and vow'd to take Dire vengeance for his sister's sake . XIX . Thus pass away the weary weeks , And dim her eyes and pale her cheeks ; Thus pass they heavily on , but still Her love - light sparkles on ...
... forlorn : And Porphyr scowl'd , and vow'd to take Dire vengeance for his sister's sake . XIX . Thus pass away the weary weeks , And dim her eyes and pale her cheeks ; Thus pass they heavily on , but still Her love - light sparkles on ...
Page 41
... forlorn : - Ah , more than words of bitter wrath ! Ah , more than looks of cruel scorn ! - That look so sad , so mild , so fair , Crush'd him , and stung him to despair . XXVII . ' Listen ! ' said she , in mournful tone , And learn my ...
... forlorn : - Ah , more than words of bitter wrath ! Ah , more than looks of cruel scorn ! - That look so sad , so mild , so fair , Crush'd him , and stung him to despair . XXVII . ' Listen ! ' said she , in mournful tone , And learn my ...
Page 98
... Forlorn old relic of the days of yore , Ere earth was trod by foot of human kind , I hear the wandering whispers of the wind ; Voices like Memnon's in the olden day , That breathed soft music to the morning ray , And spoke of mysteries ...
... Forlorn old relic of the days of yore , Ere earth was trod by foot of human kind , I hear the wandering whispers of the wind ; Voices like Memnon's in the olden day , That breathed soft music to the morning ray , And spoke of mysteries ...
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amid beauty behold beneath bless bowers breast breath bright bright eyes CHARLES MACKAY cheeks Cleon Clos Vougeot cloud cold dark death deep divine dream earth Egeria eternal evermore evil eyes face fair fill'd flowers forlorn glory gold gray owl green grief hair hand happy hate hath hear heard heart Heaven heavenly hills hope King land light lips live Lochaber look look'd Lord maid maiden mighty misanthropy morn mountain never night Norsemen o'er pain pass'd passion peace pity poison'd roar scorn Scotland seem'd shine shore sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul spirit St Fillans stars storm of passion stream sublime summer sunshine sweet tears tell tempests thee thine thou art thought toil tree truth Twas Twill vex'd voice waves weary wild wind words wrong young youth
Popular passages
Page 266 - Old Tubal Cain was a man of might, In the days when earth was young; By the fierce red light of his furnace bright, The strokes of his hammer rung ; And he lifted high his brawny hand On the iron glowing clear, Till the sparks rushed out in scarlet showers, As he fashioned the sword and spear. And he sang — " Hurrah for my handiwork ! Hurrah for the spear and sword ! Hurrah for the hand that shall wield them well, For he shall be king and lord ! " To Tubal Cain came many a one.
Page 1 - But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in and settleth in it, that doth the hurt such as we spake of before. But...
Page 1 - ... a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself. One of the later school of the Grecians examineth the matter, and is at a stand to think what should be in it that men should love lies : where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets; nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake.
Page 235 - For him the axe be bared ; For him the gibbet shall be built; For him the stake prepared ; Him shall the scorn and wrath of men Pursue with deadly aim ; And malice, envy, spite, and lies, Shall desecrate his name. But truth shall conquer at the last, For round and round we run, And ever the right comes uppermost, And ever is justice done.
Page 586 - Thou'rt wrong, my friend," said old King Hal, "Thou'rt wrong as wrong can be; For could my heart be light as thine, I'd gladly change with thee. And tell me now what makes thee sing With voice so loud and free, While I am sad, though I am king, Beside the river Dee." The miller smiled and doffed his cap; "I earn my bread...
Page 364 - Under the greenwood tree Who loves to lie with me, And tune his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat — Come hither, come hither, come hither! Here shall he see No enemy But winter and rough weather. Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats And pleased with what he gets — Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Page 209 - There's a fount about to stream, There's a light about to beam, There's a warmth about to glow, There's a flower about to blow ; There's a midnight blackness changing Into grey ! Men of thought and men of action, Clear the way!
Page 209 - With the right shall many more Enter smiling at the door : With the giant wrong shall fall Many others, great and small, That for ages long have held us for their prey. Men of thought and men of action, clear the way ! CHARLES MACKAY.
Page 207 - Is the day breaking? comes the wish'd-for hour? Tell us the signs, and stretch abroad thy hand If the bright morning dawns upon the land.
Page 3 - The appropriate business of poetry, (which, nevertheless, if genuine, is as permanent as pure science,) her appropriate employment, her privilege and her duty, is to treat of things not as they are, but as they appear; not as they exist in themselves, but as they seem to exist to the senses, and to the passions.