The Pleasures of MemoryE.H. Butler & Company, 1864 - 124 pages |
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Page 41
... dead hour of night to Silence given , Whispering seraphic visions of her heaven . When the blithe son of Savoy , journeying round With humble wares and pipe of merry sound , From his green vale and sheltered cabin hies , And scales the ...
... dead hour of night to Silence given , Whispering seraphic visions of her heaven . When the blithe son of Savoy , journeying round With humble wares and pipe of merry sound , From his green vale and sheltered cabin hies , And scales the ...
Page 45
... dead son the gallant ORMOND sighed . Thus , through the gloom of SHENSTONE's fairy grove , MARIA'S urn still breathes the voice of love As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower Awes us less deeply in its morning hour , Than when the ...
... dead son the gallant ORMOND sighed . Thus , through the gloom of SHENSTONE's fairy grove , MARIA'S urn still breathes the voice of love As the stern grandeur of a Gothic tower Awes us less deeply in its morning hour , Than when the ...
Page 54
... dead descend To watch the silent slumbers of a friend ; To hover round his evening - walk unseen ; And hold sweet converse on the dusky green ; To hail the spot where first their friendship grew , And heaven and nature opened to their ...
... dead descend To watch the silent slumbers of a friend ; To hover round his evening - walk unseen ; And hold sweet converse on the dusky green ; To hail the spot where first their friendship grew , And heaven and nature opened to their ...
Page 78
... dead ! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled ! Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man , Fight in his sacred cause , and lead the van ! Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone , And make her arm puissant as your own ! Oh ! once ...
... dead ! Ye that at Marathon and Leuctra bled ! Friends of the world ! restore your swords to man , Fight in his sacred cause , and lead the van ! Yet for Sarmatia's tears of blood atone , And make her arm puissant as your own ! Oh ! once ...
Page 90
... dead ? No ; the wild bliss of Nature needs alloy , And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy ! And say , without our hopes , without our fears , Without the home that plighted love endears , Without the smile from partial beauty won , Oh ...
... dead ? No ; the wild bliss of Nature needs alloy , And fear and sorrow fan the fire of joy ! And say , without our hopes , without our fears , Without the home that plighted love endears , Without the smile from partial beauty won , Oh ...
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Common terms and phrases
beneath blazing bleeding blest bliss breathed breeze bright Briton burst calm charm chase child child of Heaven clime clouds deep delight doom dread dream dust earth Fancy Fancy's fate fire fond gaze Genius glows grove hail hand Hark hath heart Heaven heavenly Hindoo hour hues isles life's light lingering live lonely Loxian melancholy mind mingles murmurs Muse native Nature Nature's night o'er pause peace pensive Plato Poem rapture repose rocks round rude sacred SAMUEL ROGERS sapient scenes seraph shade shore sigh silent SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE slumber smile song soothe sorrow soul sphere spirit spring storm sublime sweet tears thee THOMAS CAMPBELL thou thought thoughts inspire thunder trace trembling triumph Truth Twas vale VESPASIAN VIRGIL'S tomb Virtue wandering watch wave weep wheels wild winds wing woes worlds unknown wretch youth
Popular passages
Page 22 - Just tells the pensive pilgrim where it lay. Mute is the bell that rung at peep of dawn, Quickening my truant feet across the lawn; Unheard the shout that rent the noontide air When the slow dial gave a pause to care. Up springs, at every step, to claim a tear, Some little friendship formed and cherished here; And not the lightest leaf, but trembling teems With golden visions and romantic dreams.
Page 74 - Come, bright Improvement ! on the car of Time, And rule the spacious world from clime to clime; Thy handmaid arts shall every wild explore, Trace every wave, and culture every shore. "On Erie's banks, where tigers steal along, / And the dread Indian chants a dismal song, Where human fiends on midnight errands walk, And bathe in brains the murderous tomahawk, There shall the flocks on...
Page 61 - AT summer eve, when Heaven's ethereal bow Spans with bright arch the glittering hills below, Why to yon mountain turns the musing eye, Whose sunbright summit mingles with the sky ? Why do those cliffs of shadowy tint appear More sweet than all the landscape smiling near ?'Tis distance lends enchantment to the view, And robes the mountain in its azure hue.
Page 78 - Yes ! thy proud lords, unpitied land ! shall see That man hath yet a soul— and dare be free ! A little while, along thy saddening plains, The starless night of desolation reigns ; Truth shall restore the light by Nature given, And, like Prometheus, bring the fire of Heaven ! Prone to the dust Oppression shall be hurl'd, Her name, her nature, wither'd from the world...
Page 108 - Eternal Hope ! when yonder spheres sublime Pealed their first notes to sound the march of Time, Thy joyous youth began — but not to fade. — When all the sister planets have decayed ; When...
Page 75 - Her whiskered pandoors and her fierce hussars, Waved her dread standard to the breeze of morn, Pealed her loud drum, and twanged her trumpet horn j Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van, Presaging wrath to Poland — and to man ! Warsaw's last champion from.
Page 77 - Heaven; ere Freedom found a grave, Why slept the sword omnipotent to save? Where was thine arm, O Vengeance! where thy rod, That smote the foes of Zion and of God; That crush'd proud Ammon, when his iron car Was yoked in wrath, and thunder'd from afar?
Page 43 - Ah ! who can tell the triumphs of the mind, By truth illumined, and by taste refined ? When age has quenched the eye, and closed the ear, Still nerved for action in her native sphere, Oft will she rise — with searching glance pursue Some long-loved image vanished from her view; Dart thro...
Page 37 - SWEET MEMORY, wafted by thy gentle gale, Oft up the stream of Time I turn my sail, To view the fairy haunts of long-lost hours, Blest with far.
Page 56 - Lighter than air, Hope's summer-visions die, If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away ! But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light ; And gild those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! HUMAN LIFE.