What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
arms bear beneath blood breast breath bright cheer child close clouds course dark dead dear death deep delight dread E'en earth face fair faith fear feel fell field flowers gave give grace grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hope hour human kind land leave less light living lonely look Lord loud meet mind morn mountain moved nature never night o'er once pain pass peace poor pride rest rise rock rose round seen shade shore side sight silent sleep smile song soon soul sound spirit steps stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee things thou thought Till tree turn voice wandering wave wild wind wood young youth
Page 223 - I long woo'd your daughter, my suit you denied : — Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide — And now am I come, with this lost love of mine, To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine. There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far, That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.
Page 150 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A Creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food; For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine; A Being breathing thoughtful breath, A Traveller between life and death; The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill; A perfect Woman, nobly planned, To warn, to comfort, and command; And yet...
Page 339 - But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover! A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
Page 151 - Ah! THEN, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw ; and add the gleam, The.. light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream; I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile, Amid a world how different from this ! Beside a sea that could not cease to smile; On tranquil land, beneath a sky of bliss.
Page 459 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Page 344 - twas like all instruments. Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook, In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 223 - But the lost bride of Netherby ne'er did they see. So daring in love and so dauntless in war, Have ye e'er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?
Page 345 - The Pilot, and the Pilot's boy, I heard them coming fast : Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy The dead men could not blast. I saw a third — I heard his voice: It is the Hermit good ! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Albatross's blood.
Page 291 - The bride at the altar; Leave the deer, leave the steer, Leave nets and barges ; Come with your fighting gear, Broad-swords and targes. Come as the winds come, when Forests are rended; Come as the waves come, when Navies are stranded : Faster come, faster come, Faster and faster, Chief, vassal, page, and groom, Tenant and master. Fast they come, fast they come ; See how they gather ! Wide waves the eagle plume, Blended with heather. Cast your plaids, draw your blades, Forward each man set ! Pibroch...
Page 491 - Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone ; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone ; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh. I'll not leave thee, thou lone one ! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed, Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.