The Poets and Poetry of England, in the Nineteenth Century |
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Page 25
... look of last affection on the towers Where she had pass'd her infant days , that now Shone to the setting sun- " I follow thee , " Her faint voice said ; and lo ! where in the air A sail hangs tremulous , and soon her steps Ascend the ...
... look of last affection on the towers Where she had pass'd her infant days , that now Shone to the setting sun- " I follow thee , " Her faint voice said ; and lo ! where in the air A sail hangs tremulous , and soon her steps Ascend the ...
Page 26
... look was soft , And yet most animated , and thy step Light as the roe's upon the mountains . Now , Thou sittest hopeless , pale , beneath the tree That fann'd its joyous leaves above thy head , Where love had deck'd the blooming bower ...
... look was soft , And yet most animated , and thy step Light as the roe's upon the mountains . Now , Thou sittest hopeless , pale , beneath the tree That fann'd its joyous leaves above thy head , Where love had deck'd the blooming bower ...
Page 34
... Look there ! Look there ! " he cried , " Blood calls for blood - and from a father's hand ! Unless thyself wilt save him that sad office . " What ! " he exclaim'd , when , shuddering at the sight , The boy breathed out , " I stood but ...
... Look there ! Look there ! " he cried , " Blood calls for blood - and from a father's hand ! Unless thyself wilt save him that sad office . " What ! " he exclaim'd , when , shuddering at the sight , The boy breathed out , " I stood but ...
Page 42
... look their last . A form which conscious worth is gracing , A face where hope , the lines effacing Of thought and care , bestow'd , in truth , To the quick eyes ' imperfect tracing , The look and air of youth . Who , in his lofty gait ...
... look their last . A form which conscious worth is gracing , A face where hope , the lines effacing Of thought and care , bestow'd , in truth , To the quick eyes ' imperfect tracing , The look and air of youth . Who , in his lofty gait ...
Page 52
... look at me ! Her voice was low , Her body was subdued . In every act Pertaining to her house affairs , appear'd The careless stillness of a thinking mind Self - occupied ; to which all outward things Are like an idle matter . Still she ...
... look at me ! Her voice was low , Her body was subdued . In every act Pertaining to her house affairs , appear'd The careless stillness of a thinking mind Self - occupied ; to which all outward things Are like an idle matter . Still she ...
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Common terms and phrases
art thou beauty beneath blood bosom bower breast breath bright bright eye brow calm Catiline cheek child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep delight doth dream earth eyes fair falchion fancy fear feel flowers gaze gentle gleam gloom glory glow golden grave green grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hope hour John of Procida Lady of Shalott Lars Porsena LEIGH HUNT life's light lips living lone look look'd Lord LORD BYRON lyre mighty morning mountain ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd poems poet rill rose round Samian wine seem'd shade sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit stars stream sweet tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought tomb tree turn'd Twas vex'd voice waves weary weep wild wind wings youth
Popular passages
Page 51 - I cannot paint What then I was. The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Page 188 - What though the spicy breezes Blow soft o'er Ceylon's isle, Though every prospect pleases, And only man is vile; In vain with lavish kindness The gifts of God are strown ; The heathen in his blindness Bows down to wood and stone.
Page 58 - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power. Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart : Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea : Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free, So didst thou...
Page 230 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
Page 310 - And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel ; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the bees, Until they think warm days will never cease ; For Summer has o'erbrimm'd their clammy cells.
Page 91 - Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! — To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay!
Page 68 - She looked down to blush, and she looked up to sigh, With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye. He took her soft hand ere her mother could bar, " Now tread we a measure,
Page 306 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven: — Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Page 57 - O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live, That nature yet remembers What was so fugitive! The thought of our past years in me doth breed Perpetual benediction : not indeed For that which is most worthy to be blest — Delight and liberty, the simple creed Of Childhood, whether busy or at rest, With new-fledged hope still fluttering in his breast: — Not for these I raise The song of thanks and praise; But for those obstinate questionings Of sense and outward things, Fallings from us,...
Page 237 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.