The Poetical Album: And Register of Modern Fugitive Poetry, Volume 2Alaric Alexander Watts Hurst, Chance, and Company, 1829 - English poetry |
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Results 1-5 of 64
Page x
... Dead Girl . By T. K. Hervey , Esq . The Decision of the Flower . By Miss L. E. Landon 5868 62 57 59 61 63 65 66 67 69 Fidelity . From the Spanish 70 I think of Thee . By Alaric A. Watts 71 Song . By Mrs. Charles Gore 73 The Field of ...
... Dead Girl . By T. K. Hervey , Esq . The Decision of the Flower . By Miss L. E. Landon 5868 62 57 59 61 63 65 66 67 69 Fidelity . From the Spanish 70 I think of Thee . By Alaric A. Watts 71 Song . By Mrs. Charles Gore 73 The Field of ...
Page xiii
... Dead Eagle . By D. M. Moir , Esq . A Lament for Chivalry The Complaint Napoleon at the Kremlin . By Mrs. Charles Gore Lines with a Knife · 235 250 251 253 • 254 256 • 259 260 262 263 • 264 266 268 269 272 PAGE The Old Man's Reverie Song ...
... Dead Eagle . By D. M. Moir , Esq . A Lament for Chivalry The Complaint Napoleon at the Kremlin . By Mrs. Charles Gore Lines with a Knife · 235 250 251 253 • 254 256 • 259 260 262 263 • 264 266 268 269 272 PAGE The Old Man's Reverie Song ...
Page 6
... dead , Point to the thirsting foe the track you tread . To seize was easy , and to march was plain ; Hard to retreat , and harder to retain . Reft of thy trappings , pomp , and glittering gear , Dearth in thy van , —destruction in thy ...
... dead , Point to the thirsting foe the track you tread . To seize was easy , and to march was plain ; Hard to retreat , and harder to retain . Reft of thy trappings , pomp , and glittering gear , Dearth in thy van , —destruction in thy ...
Page 29
... dead , and sorrow seemed to lie , A weight of sorrow , even like lead , pale on the fast - shut eye . He stooped and kissed the frozen cheek , and the heavy hand of clay , Till bursting words - yet all too weak - gave his soul's passion ...
... dead , and sorrow seemed to lie , A weight of sorrow , even like lead , pale on the fast - shut eye . He stooped and kissed the frozen cheek , and the heavy hand of clay , Till bursting words - yet all too weak - gave his soul's passion ...
Page 38
... dead ; My dumps are made of more than lead ; My flights soon find a fall ; My fears prevail , my fancies droop , Joy never cometh with a whoop , And seldom with a call ! My football's laid upon the shelf ; — I am A RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW .
... dead ; My dumps are made of more than lead ; My flights soon find a fall ; My fears prevail , my fancies droop , Joy never cometh with a whoop , And seldom with a call ! My football's laid upon the shelf ; — I am A RETROSPECTIVE REVIEW .
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Common terms and phrases
art thou beauty Behave yoursel beneath Blackwood's Magazine blest bloom blue bosom bower breast breath bright brow calm charms cheek child clouds cold dark dear death deep dream earth fading fair farewell fear flame flowers Gaul gaze gentle gleam gloom glow Godiva gondolier grave green grief Harebells hath heart heaven hope hour hyæna J. G. LOCKHART JAMES HOGG JOHN MOULTRIE life's light lips Literary Souvenir lonely look LORD BYRON lyre mirth mourn ne'er neath never night o'er Olmutz pale PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY rapture rock round scene Scottish lassie shade shine shore sigh silent skies sleep slumber smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit star stream sweet tears tell thee thine THOMAS DOUBLEDAY thou art thou hast thou wert thought throne tomb trembling voice wandering wave weep wild wind wing youth
Popular passages
Page 22 - THE SISTERS. BY ALARIC A. WATTS. They grew together Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, But yet an union in partition; Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : So with two seeming bodies, but one heart. I SAW them when their bud of life Was slowly opening into flower, Before a cloud of care or strife
Page 195 - press, with patient look, Thou watchest the last oozings, hours by hours. Where are the songs of spring ? Ay, where are they ? Think not of them, thou hast thy music too; While barred clouds bloom the soft dying day, And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn Among the river sallows,
Page 73 - whence streams of nectar flow. Bloom, O ye amaranths ! bloom for whom ye may— For me ye bloom not! Glide, rich streams, away! With lips unbrightened, wreathless brow, I stroll: And would you learn the spells that drowse my soul ? Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve, And hope without an object cannot live. HART S WELL,
Page 73 - WORK WITHOUT HOPE. LINES COMPOSED ON A DAY IN FEBRUARY. BY ST COLERIDGE, ESQ. ALL nature seems at work. Slugs leave their lair— The bees are stirring—birds are on the wing— And Winter slumbering in the open air, Wears on his smiling face a dream of Spring! And I, the while, the sole unbusy thing,
Page 249 - Not there, not there, my child!" " Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies?— Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the hreeze, And strange, bright birds, on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?" —
Page 80 - dark and high; I used to think their slender spires Were close against the sky! It was a childish ignorance,— But now 'tis little joy To know I 'm further off from heaven, Than when I was a boy!
Page 201 - That course, nor Delhi's kingly gates, Nor wild Malwah detain, For sweet the bliss us both awaits, By yonder western main. Thy towers, Bombay, gleam bright, they say, Across the dark blue sea; But ne'er were hearts so light and gay, As then shall meet in thee! DOMESTIC LOVE. DOMESTIC Love! not in proud palace
Page 137 - To drink this last and bitter cup Of grief that man shall taste— Go, tell the night that hides thy face, Thou saw'st the last of Adam's race, On earth's sepulchral clod, The darkening universe defy To quench his immortality, Or shake his trust in God ! SONG.
Page 172 - ere, Which tells me, Youth's no longer here! 0 Youth! for years so many and sweet, 'Tis known that thou and I were one— I 'll think it but a fond conceit; It cannot be that thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet
Page 135 - is Mercy bids thee go, For thou ten thousand thousand years Hast seen the tide of human tears, That shall no longer flow. What though beneath thee man put forth His pomp, his pride, his skill; Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, Thou dim discrowned king of day: