New Elegant Extracts: A Unique Selection from the Most Eminent British Poets and Poetical Translators, Volume 3C. and C. Whittingham, 1823 - English literature |
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Page 12
... golden height . The statue , waking with immortal powers ‡ , Springs from its parent earth , and shakes the spheres ; The indignant pyramid sublimely towers , And braves the effort of a host of years . Sweet Music breathes her soul into ...
... golden height . The statue , waking with immortal powers ‡ , Springs from its parent earth , and shakes the spheres ; The indignant pyramid sublimely towers , And braves the effort of a host of years . Sweet Music breathes her soul into ...
Page 25
... golden pall , Amid Cilgarran's castle hall , Sublime , in formidable state And warlike splendour , Henry sat ; Prepared to stain the briny flood Of Shannon's lakes with rebel blood . Illumining the vaulted roof , A thousand torches ...
... golden pall , Amid Cilgarran's castle hall , Sublime , in formidable state And warlike splendour , Henry sat ; Prepared to stain the briny flood Of Shannon's lakes with rebel blood . Illumining the vaulted roof , A thousand torches ...
Page 29
... golden bliss to dwell ; Where , crown'd with wreaths of mistletoe , Slaughter'd kings in glory go : But when he fell , with winged speed His champions , on a milkwhite steed , From the battle's hurricane Bore him to Joseph's towered ...
... golden bliss to dwell ; Where , crown'd with wreaths of mistletoe , Slaughter'd kings in glory go : But when he fell , with winged speed His champions , on a milkwhite steed , From the battle's hurricane Bore him to Joseph's towered ...
Page 51
... . As down the summer stream of vice The thoughtless many glide , Upwards you steer your steady bark , And stem the rushing tide . Where Guilt her foul contagion spreads , And golden spoils ODES . 51 Hymn-Salt of the earth Mrs Barbauld.
... . As down the summer stream of vice The thoughtless many glide , Upwards you steer your steady bark , And stem the rushing tide . Where Guilt her foul contagion spreads , And golden spoils ODES . 51 Hymn-Salt of the earth Mrs Barbauld.
Page 52
... golden spoils allure , Unspotted still your garments shine , — Your hands are ever pure . Whene'er you touch the poet's lyre A loftier strain is heard ; Each ardent thought is yours alone , And every burning word . Yours is the large ...
... golden spoils allure , Unspotted still your garments shine , — Your hands are ever pure . Whene'er you touch the poet's lyre A loftier strain is heard ; Each ardent thought is yours alone , And every burning word . Yours is the large ...
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Common terms and phrases
Anacreon ANNA SEWARD beams beauty beneath blast bless'd bliss bloom blush bosom bowers breast breath bright brow CHARLOTTE SMITH charms cheek cheer courser crown'd Cumnor dark dear death deep delight dost doth dreams earth fair fairy Fancy fire flame flowers fond gale gentle Glastonbury Abbey gloom glory glowing golden grace green groves hail hast hath hear heart heaven hill Hope hour Ianthe Inchcape Rock King King Arthur light lonely lyre maid Motezuma mourn Muse Musidora Naiads Nature's night numbers nymph o'er Ovid pale Petrarch plain R. A. DAVENPORT rage rapture rills round scenes shade shed shine sighs silent sing sleep smile soft song soothe sorrow soul sound Spring storm stranger band stream sweet swell tears tempests thee thine thou train vale vermil voice wake wave weep wild wind wing youth
Popular passages
Page 313 - Coral is far more red than her lips' red: If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun; If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head. I have seen roses damask'd, red and white, But no such roses see I in her cheeks; And in some perfumes is there more delight Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks. I love to hear her speak, yet well I know That music hath a far more pleasing sound: I grant I never saw a goddess go; My mistress, when...
Page 311 - Since there's no help, come, let us kiss and part! Nay, I have done. You get no more of me! And I am glad, yea, glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free. Shake hands for ever! Cancel all our vows! And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain.
Page 325 - Purification in the old law did save, And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. Her face was...
Page 328 - Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire: These ears alas! for other notes repine; A different object do these eyes require; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire; Yet Morning smiles the busy race to cheer, And new-born pleasure brings to happier men; The fields to all their wonted tribute bear; To warm their little loves the birds complain. I fruitless mourn to him that...
Page 312 - When to the sessions of sweet silent thought I summon up remembrance of things past, I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought, And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste...
Page 311 - ... no help, come let us kiss and part, — Nay I have done, you get no more of me; And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart, That thus so cleanly I myself can free; Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows, And when we meet at any time again, Be it not seen in either of our brows That we one jot of former love retain. Now at the last gasp of love's latest breath, When his pulse failing, passion speechless lies, When faith is kneeling by his bed of death, And innocence is closing up his eyes, —...
Page 328 - In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire : The birds in vain their amorous descant join, Or cheerful fields resume their green attire. These ears, alas ! for other notes repine ; A different object do these eyes require ; My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine ; And in my breast the imperfect joys expire...
Page 16 - Woods ! that listen to the night-birds singing, Midway the smooth and perilous slope reclined, Save when your own imperious branches swinging, Have made a solemn music of the wind ! Where, like a man beloved of God, Through glooms, which never woodman trod...
Page 74 - Now air is hushed, save where the weak-eyed bat, With short, shrill shriek, flits by on leathern wing; Or where the beetle winds His small but sullen horn...
Page 306 - The turtle to her mate hath told her tale. Summer is come, for every spray now springs: The hart hath hung his old head on the pale; The buck in brake his winter coat he flings ; The fishes flete with new repaired scale.