The Poetical Writings of Fitz-Greene Halleck: With Extracts from Those of Joseph Rodman Drake |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 82
Page 13
... hour When Greece , her knee in suppliance bent , Should tremble at his power : In dreams , through camp and court , he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard ; Then wore his monarch's signet ring : Then ...
... hour When Greece , her knee in suppliance bent , Should tremble at his power : In dreams , through camp and court , he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard ; Then wore his monarch's signet ring : Then ...
Page 14
... hour passed on - the Turk awoke ; That bright dream was his last ; He woke to hear his sentries shriek , " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! ” He woke to die midst flame , and smoke , And shout , and groan , and sabre ...
... hour passed on - the Turk awoke ; That bright dream was his last ; He woke to hear his sentries shriek , " To arms ! they come ! the Greek ! the Greek ! ” He woke to die midst flame , and smoke , And shout , and groan , and sabre ...
Page 15
... Come , when his task of fame is wrought- Come , with her laurel - leaf , blood bought- Come in her crowning hour - and then Thy sunken eye's unearthly light To him is welcome as the sight 15 Of sky and stars to prisoned men : Thy grasp.
... Come , when his task of fame is wrought- Come , with her laurel - leaf , blood bought- Come in her crowning hour - and then Thy sunken eye's unearthly light To him is welcome as the sight 15 Of sky and stars to prisoned men : Thy grasp.
Page 18
... hours ; And warriors frown in stone on high , And feudal banners " flout the sky " Above his princely towers . A gentle hill its side inclines , Lovely in England's fadeless green , To meet the quiet stream which winds Through this ...
... hours ; And warriors frown in stone on high , And feudal banners " flout the sky " Above his princely towers . A gentle hill its side inclines , Lovely in England's fadeless green , To meet the quiet stream which winds Through this ...
Page 19
... hours , A templar's knightly tomb . He died , the sword in his mailed hand , On the holiest spot of the Blessed land , Where the Cross was damped with his dying breath , When blood ran free as festal wine , And the sainted air of ...
... hours , A templar's knightly tomb . He died , the sword in his mailed hand , On the holiest spot of the Blessed land , Where the Cross was damped with his dying breath , When blood ran free as festal wine , And the sainted air of ...
Contents
13 | |
23 | |
30 | |
36 | |
46 | |
53 | |
60 | |
66 | |
222 | |
228 | |
236 | |
242 | |
249 | |
255 | |
262 | |
266 | |
82 | |
89 | |
95 | |
99 | |
195 | |
203 | |
209 | |
215 | |
276 | |
347 | |
369 | |
376 | |
380 | |
387 | |
389 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
bard beat beauty bless blue bosom bower brave breath bright Broadway brow Bucktails charm Chatham Garden Theatre Clinton clouds COUNCIL OF APPOINTMENT Croakers dear delight devil Doctor Drake dreams eyes face fame FANNY fashionable Fitz-Greene Halleck flowers gaze grace green Hall Halleck happy heard heart Heaven honor hope hour JOHN MINSHULL John Targee JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE King ladies land life's linger Lord Mayor merry militia Mitchill morning ne'er never New-York New-York Evening Post o'er party poem poet poet's political praise proud rhyme rose round scene SIMEON DE WITT SIMPSON sleep smile song sparkled speech spirit Stanza Street summer sunbeam sweet Tammany Tammany Hall Tammany Society tears thee There's thine thing thou thought throne twas wave wild WILLIAM COBBETT winds wing words York young
Popular passages
Page 34 - Green be the turf above thee, Friend of my better days! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.
Page 13 - At midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour "When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard ; Then wore his monarch's signet ring, — Then pressed that monarch's throne, — a king ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Page 71 - They love their land, because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why ; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty ; A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none.
Page 125 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, , An essence that breathes of it many a year ; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer...
Page 125 - There's a bower of roses by BENDEMEER'S ' stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Page 186 - Glance their many-twinkling feet. •Slow melting strains their Queen's approach declare: Where'er she turns the Graces homage pay; With arms sublime, that float upon the air, In gliding state she wins her easy way; O'er her warm cheek and rising bosom move The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
Page 14 - And heard, with voice as trumpet loud, Bozzaris cheer his band: "Strike — till the last armed foe expires ; Strike — for your altars and your fires ; Strike — for the green graves of your sires; God — and your native land...
Page 15 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free, Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be. Come, when his task of fame is wrought — Come, with her laurel-leaf, blood-bought...
Page 73 - The glorious splendor of her sunset clouds, The rainbow beauty of her forest leaves, Come o'er the eye, in solitude and crowds, Where'er his web of song her poet weaves ; And his mind's • brightest vision but displays The autumn scenery of his boyhood's days.
Page 25 - Or the smile light the cheek ; And his that music, to whose tone The common pulse of man keeps time, In cot or castle's mirth or moan, In cold or sunny clime. And who hath heard his song, nor knelt Before its spell with willing knee, And...