The Poetical Works of Samuel RogersEdward Moxon, 1856 - 437 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 55
Page 9
... wall . As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew , And traced the line of life with searching view , How throbbed my fluttering pulse with hopes and fears , To learn the colour of my future years ! Ah , then , what honest triumph ...
... wall . As o'er my palm the silver piece she drew , And traced the line of life with searching view , How throbbed my fluttering pulse with hopes and fears , To learn the colour of my future years ! Ah , then , what honest triumph ...
Page 16
... walls attest , And unborn ages consecrate thy nest . When , with the silent energy of grief , With looks that asked , yet dared not hope relief , Want with her babes round generous Valour clung , To wring the slow surrender from his ...
... walls attest , And unborn ages consecrate thy nest . When , with the silent energy of grief , With looks that asked , yet dared not hope relief , Want with her babes round generous Valour clung , To wring the slow surrender from his ...
Page 22
... wall what bright ideas start ! Even now he claims the amaranthine wreath , With scenes that glow , with images that breathe ! And whence these scenes , these images , declare . Whence but from Her who triumphs o'er despair ? Awake ...
... wall what bright ideas start ! Even now he claims the amaranthine wreath , With scenes that glow , with images that breathe ! And whence these scenes , these images , declare . Whence but from Her who triumphs o'er despair ? Awake ...
Page 25
... wall ; The tender images we loved to trace , Steal from each year a melancholy grace e ! And as the sparks of social love expand , As the heart opens in a foreign land ; And , with a brother's warmth , a brother's smile , The stranger ...
... wall ; The tender images we loved to trace , Steal from each year a melancholy grace e ! And as the sparks of social love expand , As the heart opens in a foreign land ; And , with a brother's warmth , a brother's smile , The stranger ...
Page 28
... wall . There slept the horn each jocund echo knew , And many a smile and many a story drew ! High o'er the hearth his forest - trophies hung , And their fantastic branches wildly flung . How would he dwell on the vast antlers there ! 28 ...
... wall . There slept the horn each jocund echo knew , And many a smile and many a story drew ! High o'er the hearth his forest - trophies hung , And their fantastic branches wildly flung . How would he dwell on the vast antlers there ! 28 ...
Contents
255 | |
264 | |
274 | |
282 | |
291 | |
299 | |
302 | |
316 | |
182 | |
184 | |
190 | |
197 | |
203 | |
209 | |
213 | |
219 | |
226 | |
232 | |
241 | |
248 | |
323 | |
332 | |
339 | |
345 | |
356 | |
362 | |
372 | |
379 | |
385 | |
391 | |
397 | |
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
age to age AMALFI ancient ARIOSTO beautiful bless blest Boccaccio breathe bright called charm child Cicero clouds cried dark dead delight dream earth ELEONORA DI TOLEDO Euripides eyes father fear fled Florence flowers gate gazed GENOA gentle glimmering glory glows gold Gondolier gone grave grey grove hand hast heard heart heaven holy hour hung light line 15 lived look lost mind Montesquieu musing Naples night numbers o'er once Padua passed Petrarch pleasure rest rise ROME round sacred sail sate says scene seen shade shifting sail shine shore sigh silent sing sitting sleep slumbers smile song soon soul spirit spoke stir stood sung sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thro Titian tower turned Twas VENICE Verdea voice walls wander wave weep whence wild wind wings young youth
Popular passages
Page 273 - Signior Antonio, many a time and oft, In the Rialto, you have rated me About my moneys and my usances : Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; For sufferance is the badge of all our tribe : You call me misbeliever, cut-throat dog, And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine, And all for use of that which is mine own'.
Page 290 - When on an idle day, a day of search "Mid the old lumber in the gallery, That mouldering chest was noticed ; and 'twas said By one as young, as thoughtless as Ginevra, " Why not remove it from its lurking-place...
Page 155 - I wis all their sport in the park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas, good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant.
Page 36 - Whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses ; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. Far from me and from my friends be such frigid philosophy, as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. That man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of Marathon, or whose piety would not grow • warmer among...
Page 151 - O eloquent, just, and mighty Death! whom none could advise, thou hast persuaded; what none hath dared, thou hast done; and whom all the world hath flattered, thou only hast cast out of the world and despised : thou hast drawn together all the far-stretched greatness, all the pride, cruelty, and ambition of man, and covered it all over with these two narrow words, Hie jacet.
Page 289 - With scripture-stories from the life of Christ ; A chest that came from Venice, and had held The ducal robes of some old ancestor...
Page 337 - Of law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world ; all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power...
Page 289 - And in her fifteenth year became a bride, Marrying an only son, Francesco Doria, Her playmate from her birth, and her first love. Just as she looks there in her bridal dress, She was all gentleness, all gaiety, Her pranks the favourite theme of every tongue.
Page 197 - Oft, like some loved romantic tale, Oft shall my weary mind recall, Amid the hum and stir of men, Thy beechen grove and waterfall, Thy ferry with its gliding sail, And Her — the Lady of the Glen ! AN INSCRIPTION IN THE CRIMEA.
Page 182 - Go — you may call it madness, folly ; You shall not chase my gloom away. There's such a charm in melancholy, I would not, if I could, be gay.