The Chilswell Book of English PoetryRobert Bridges |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 21
Page xi
... glory and it has been both a credit and profit to us that our nineteenth - century poets stood so high in the scale of excellence , and preserved so well the accent of our older poetry , that there is no gap in the train of song , and ...
... glory and it has been both a credit and profit to us that our nineteenth - century poets stood so high in the scale of excellence , and preserved so well the accent of our older poetry , that there is no gap in the train of song , and ...
Page 17
... glory . < Wolfe . 25 The Loss of the Royal George TOLL for the brave ! The brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave , Whose courage well was tried , Had made the vessel ...
... glory . < Wolfe . 25 The Loss of the Royal George TOLL for the brave ! The brave that are no more ! All sunk beneath the wave Fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave , Whose courage well was tried , Had made the vessel ...
Page 127
... glory that was Greece , And the grandeur that was Rome . Lo ! in yon brilliant window - niche How statue - like I see thee stand , The agate lamp within thy hand , — Ah ! Psyche , from the regions which Are Holy Land ! 113 THERE be none ...
... glory that was Greece , And the grandeur that was Rome . Lo ! in yon brilliant window - niche How statue - like I see thee stand , The agate lamp within thy hand , — Ah ! Psyche , from the regions which Are Holy Land ! 113 THERE be none ...
Page 133
... glory ; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two - and - twenty Are worth all your laurels , tho ' ever so plenty . What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled ? " Tis but as a dead - flower with May - dew besprinkled- Then ...
... glory ; And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two - and - twenty Are worth all your laurels , tho ' ever so plenty . What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled ? " Tis but as a dead - flower with May - dew besprinkled- Then ...
Page 134
... glory . Byron , 1821 . 124 Lucy SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove , A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! Fair as a star , when only ...
... glory . Byron , 1821 . 124 Lucy SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove , A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye ! Fair as a star , when only ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
bear beauty beneath birds blow breath bright close cloud cold comes dark dead dear death deep doth dream earth eyes face fair fall fear fire flowers give glory gone grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hill hour John keep king land leaves less lies light live look Lord loud mind moon morning move Nature never night o'er once pain peace play poem rest Ring rise round Shakespeare ship shore silent sing sleep song soon soul sound spirit Spring stand stars stood stream sweet tears tell thee things thou thou art thought thousand tree true voice waters waves weary wide wild wind wings woods youth
Popular passages
Page 176 - Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath ; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy ! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain — To thy high requiem become a sod.
Page 102 - The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake And monarchs tremble in their capitals, The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee and arbiter of war,— These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.
Page 174 - MY heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk, > Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk...
Page 85 - For a' that, and a' that, Their dignities, and a' that, The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, Are higher ranks than a' that. Then let us pray that come it may, As come it will for a' that, That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, May bear the gree, and a' that. For a
Page 18 - O Captain! My Captain! O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain!
Page 26 - It is not growing like a tree In bulk, doth make man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, To fall a log, at last, dry, bald, and sere: A lily of a day, Is fairer far, in May, Although it fall, and die that night; It was the plant, and flower of light. In small proportions, we just beauties see: And in short measures, life may perfect be.
Page 199 - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful Jollity, Quips, and cranks,* and wanton* wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
Page 203 - Fancy's child, Warble his native wood-notes wild, And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, 140 With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Page 4 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Page 194 - And may at last my weary age Find out the peaceful hermitage, The hairy gown and mossy cell, Where I may sit and rightly spell Of every star that heaven doth shew, And every herb that sips the dew, Till old experience do attain To something like prophetic strain.