Poetic gems: partly original; but chiefly selected from the best authors: by S. BlackburnG. Dennis, 1833 - 240 pages |
From inside the book
Results 1-5 of 48
Page 15
... spirit of storm comes sweeping on ? Or who the dark hidden cave hath found , Where he sleeps when his chains hold him down ? He cometh - he cometh - the fierce and free ! He hath floated the flag o'er the field of fight , And swell'd ...
... spirit of storm comes sweeping on ? Or who the dark hidden cave hath found , Where he sleeps when his chains hold him down ? He cometh - he cometh - the fierce and free ! He hath floated the flag o'er the field of fight , And swell'd ...
Page 18
... spirit , through Nature's book ; By fount , by forest , by river's line , To track the paths of a love divine ; To read its deep meanings - to see and hear God in earth's garden - and not to fear ! Mrs. Hemans . ON SEEING FLAGS HANG IN ...
... spirit , through Nature's book ; By fount , by forest , by river's line , To track the paths of a love divine ; To read its deep meanings - to see and hear God in earth's garden - and not to fear ! Mrs. Hemans . ON SEEING FLAGS HANG IN ...
Page 20
... unknown , When known , are wither'd then ! But hovering round our growing years , To gild care's sable shroud , Their spirit thro ' the gloom appears , As suns behind a cloud . Since thou didst meet my infant eyes , As through 20.
... unknown , When known , are wither'd then ! But hovering round our growing years , To gild care's sable shroud , Their spirit thro ' the gloom appears , As suns behind a cloud . Since thou didst meet my infant eyes , As through 20.
Page 24
... spirits , near or far , With thine must rise to meet the just . Thou know'st not but they hover near , Witness of ev'ry sacred deed ; Which , shunning human eye or ear , The spirits of the dead may heed . An awful thought it is to think ...
... spirits , near or far , With thine must rise to meet the just . Thou know'st not but they hover near , Witness of ev'ry sacred deed ; Which , shunning human eye or ear , The spirits of the dead may heed . An awful thought it is to think ...
Page 28
... spirit dwells in thine , " Fraught with gratitude and love . " I will take thee , orphan child , And adopt thee as my own ; Cease not then thy warblings wild , Tho ' thy toilsome days be flown . " I'll protect thy tender years ...
... spirit dwells in thine , " Fraught with gratitude and love . " I will take thee , orphan child , And adopt thee as my own ; Cease not then thy warblings wild , Tho ' thy toilsome days be flown . " I'll protect thy tender years ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
age to age Anon art thou beauty beneath blessed bliss bloom bosom breast breath bright Cambyses charm cheerful child clouds COLCHESTER cold cried crimson-tipped dark dead dear death delight dread E'en earth fair fancy father fear feel flowers gaz'd Gelert glory grave green grief hand happy hast hath hear heard heart heaven hope hour hush'd kiss kiss of love learned friend life's light lonely look look'd lov'd lyre morning mother mountain Nature's ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd paths of glory peace pleasure poor rill rock round scene seem'd seraph shade shadows roll shine sigh silent skies sleep slumber smile song soon sorrow soul sound spirit stars stream sweet tears tell tempest Thebes thee thine thou thought to-morrow tomb tree truth Twas Twill voice wandering wild wind wings young youth
Popular passages
Page 108 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn Or busy housewife ply her evening care : No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share. Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke ; How jocund did they drive their team afield ! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke ! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure ; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and...
Page 72 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed, And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; But little hell reck if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him...
Page 233 - The man whose eye Is ever on himself doth look on one, The least of Nature's works, one who might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever.
Page 111 - The next with dirges due in sad array Slow thro' the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Grav'd on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Page 142 - Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing, While, as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings, Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round ; Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound : And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
Page 236 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Page 234 - THE way was long, the wind was cold, The Minstrel was infirm and old; His withered cheek, and tresses gray, Seemed to have known a better day ; The harp, his sole remaining joy, Was carried by an orphan boy. The last of all the Bards was he, Who sung of, Border chivalry; For, well-a-day!
Page 145 - MUMMY (AT BELZONI'S EXHIBITION) Horace Smith And thou hast walked about (how strange a story!) In Thebes's streets three thousand years ago. When the Memnonium was in all its glory, And time had not begun to overthrow Those temples, palaces, and piles stupendous, Of which the very ruins are tremendous.
Page 110 - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Page 109 - The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village Hampden that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton, here may rest, Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood. Th...