The lyre and Sword, with a life of the author, and extracts from his letters, tr. by W.B. ChorleyHamilton, Adams, & Company, 1834 - 248 pages |
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The Lyre and Sword, with a Life of the Author, and Extracts from His Letters ... Karl Theodor Korner No preview available - 2016 |
The Lyre and Sword, with a Life of the Author, and Extracts from His Letters ... Karl Theodor Korner No preview available - 2016 |
Common terms and phrases
amongst arms Aspern Austria awaken bard battle BATTLE OF ASPERN blessing blest blood bold brave breath brothers Carlsbad cavalry CHARLES THEODORE KÖRNER country's courage Courland crown daring death deep devoted Dresden Eagles earth Elbe enemy enemy's EXTRACTS FROM KÖRNER'S feelings fight force free bands Free Corps French French national guard Freyberg friends German freedom German song German wine glad glory glow Göhrde grave hand happy hath Havelberg heart Heaven heroes holy Hurrah KÖRNER'S LETTERS Kosâks land Leipsig life's lives Lyre and Sword Mad Death Major Von Lutzow midst mourn never noble o'er pleasure poems poet Poet's Fatherland poetry pride proudly Prussian QUEEN LOUISA round shewed Silesia sons soon sorrow soul sound spirit stand storm strength swell thee Theremin thine thou translation troops vengeance victory victory's Vienna voice warrior weep Whilst wild wounded Yägers young Körner youth Zriny
Popular passages
Page 204 - What then was left for her the faithful-hearted ? Death, death, to still the yearning for the dead ! Softly she perished : be the Flower deplored Here with the Lyre and Sword ! Have ye not met ere now ?—so let those trust That meet for moments but to part for years— That weep, watch, pray, to hold back dust from dust— That love, where love is but a fount of tears. Brother ! sweet sister ! peace around ye dwell: Lyre, Sword, and Flower...
Page 204 - The earth grew silent when thy voice departed, The home too lonely whence thy step had fled — What then was left for her, the faithful-hearted ? — Death, death, to still the yearning for the dead. Softly she perished — be the Flower deplored, Here with the Lyre and Sword.
Page 183 - Ha ! in the free air glancing, How brave this bridal dancing ! How, in the sun's glad beams, Bride-like thy bright steel gleams ! Hurrah !" Come on, ye German horsemen ! Come on, ye valiant Norsemen ! Swells not your hearts...
Page 203 - She lov'd thee — lovely in your lives ye were, And in your early deaths divided not. Thou hast thine oak, thy trophy — what hath she ? — Her own...
Page 203 - The gentle girl that bowed her fair young head When thou wert gone, in silent sorrow dying. Brother, true friend ! the tender and the brave ! — She pined to share thy grave. Fame was thy gift from others ; — but for her, To whom the wide...
Page 206 - Gently a voice from afar is borne to the ear of the mourner ; Mildly it soundeth, yet strong, grief in his bosom to soothe ; Strong in the soul-cheering faith, that hearts have a share in his sorrow, In whose depths all things holy and noble are shrined. From that land once dearly...
Page 204 - Woe, yet not long — she lingered but to trace Thine image from the image in her breast, Once, once again to see that buried face But smile upon her, ere she went to rest. Too sad a smile ! its living light was o'er — It answered hers no more.
Page 79 - Full of high thoughts and manhood's youthful glow. Ye true old witnesses of times departed, Still are ye decked in young life's greenest show ; The strong old days, the past world's forms of power, Still in your pride of strength before us tower. Much that was noble Time hath been defiling ; Much that was fair an early death hath died ; Still through your leaf-crown glimmers, faintly smiling, The...
Page 206 - Mildly it soundeth, yet strong, grief in his bosom to soothe; Strong in the soul-cheering faith, that hearts have a share in his sorrow, • In whose depths all things holy and noble are shrined. From that land once dearly belov'd by our brave one, the fallen, Mourning blent with bright fame—cometh a wreath for his urn.
Page 80 - Time menaces your healthy pride, And voices whisper, through your branches sighing, " All that is great must triumph over dying ! " Thus have ye triumphed ! O'er what droops decaying, Green, fresh, and strong, ye rear your lusty heads ; No weary pilgrim, through the forest straying, But rests him in the shade your branch-work spreads ; E'en when your leaves are dead, each light wind playing On the glad earth their precious tribute sheds: Thus o'er your roots your fallen children sleeping. Hold all...