Palgrave's Golden Treasury of Songs and Lyrics ...Macmillan, 1903 - English poetry |
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Page 5
... Twas on a lofty vase's side , Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers that blow , Demurest of the tabby kind The pensive Selima , reclined , Gazed on the lake below . 5 Her conscious tail her joy declared : The fair round ...
... Twas on a lofty vase's side , Where China's gayest art had dyed The azure flowers that blow , Demurest of the tabby kind The pensive Selima , reclined , Gazed on the lake below . 5 Her conscious tail her joy declared : The fair round ...
Page 28
... Twas sad by fits , by starts ' twas wild . But thou , O Hope , with eyes so fair , What was thy delighted measure ? Still it whisper'd promised pleasure And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain ...
... Twas sad by fits , by starts ' twas wild . But thou , O Hope , with eyes so fair , What was thy delighted measure ? Still it whisper'd promised pleasure And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail ! Still would her touch the strain ...
Page 40
... twas all he wish'd ) a friend . No farther seek his merits to disclose , Or draw his frailties from their dread abode , ( There they alike in trembling hope repose , ) The bosom of his Father and his God . 120 125 T. Gray 37 . MARY ...
... twas all he wish'd ) a friend . No farther seek his merits to disclose , Or draw his frailties from their dread abode , ( There they alike in trembling hope repose , ) The bosom of his Father and his God . 120 125 T. Gray 37 . MARY ...
Page 56
... Twas my distress that brought thee low , My Mary ! Thy needles , once a shining store , For my sake restless heretofore , 10 Now rust disused , and shine no more ; My Mary ! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for ...
... Twas my distress that brought thee low , My Mary ! Thy needles , once a shining store , For my sake restless heretofore , 10 Now rust disused , and shine no more ; My Mary ! For though thou gladly wouldst fulfil The same kind office for ...
Page 70
... Twas on a lofty vase's side THE cat belonged to Gray's friend , Horace Walpole . Gray sent the Ode in a letter to Walpole , March 1 , 1747 : " As one ought to be particularly careful to avoid blunders in a compliment of con- dolence ...
... Twas on a lofty vase's side THE cat belonged to Gray's friend , Horace Walpole . Gray sent the Ode in a letter to Walpole , March 1 , 1747 : " As one ought to be particularly careful to avoid blunders in a compliment of con- dolence ...
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Common terms and phrases
Aeneid Aeolian Aeschylus ancient baith ballad Bard beauty bonnie braes Burns called charm Collins Cowper dear death Duncan Eclogue Elegy English epithet eyes F. T. Palgrave Faerie Queen fair favourite flowers Georgics Golden Treasury Gray Gray's Greek green Hales heart Heaven Horace Il Penseroso Jean John Anderson King L'Allegro Latin leal lines living lourche Lucretius LXXXIX Lycidas Lycidas G. T. lyre lyric lyric poetry Mary melancholy metre Michael Macmillan Milton mind Muse night numbers o'er Paradise Lost Penseroso Pindar pleasure poem poetic poetry poets Pope Queen reign rhyme Scottish sense sewed shade Shakespeare simplicity sing sleep smile song Sophocles sorrow soul sound Spenser Spring stanza stream sweet tabby tear thee There's thou art thought thro Tovey Twas verb verse Virgil warbled weel Welsh wind wings word Wordsworth Yarrow
Popular passages
Page 41 - uuhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate ; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, 95 Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,— Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn ; 100
Page 25 - CLXXV. When lovely woman stoops ,to folly And finds too late that men betray,— What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, 5 To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover And wring his bosom,
Page 126 - While the cock with lively din Scatters the rear of darkness thin . . . Oft listening how the hounds and horn Cheerly rouse the slumbering morn." 20. lowly bed. "This probably refers to the humble couch on which they have spent the night; but it is meant to suggest the grave as well
Page 41 - The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, 70 Or heap the shrine of luxury and pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife
Page 17 - CLXV. 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 ! A land-breeze shook the shrouds And she was overset; 10 Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete. Toll for the brave ! His last sea-fight is fought, 15
Page 18 - His work of glory done. It was not in the battle ; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. 20 His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen. When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men. Once dreaded by our
Page 41 - Some kindred spirit shall enquire thy fate,— Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, ' Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn ; 100
Page 45 - How sweetly bloom'd the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn's blossom, 10 As underneath their fragrant shade I clasp'd her to my bosom ! The golden hours on angel wings Flew o'er me and my dearie ; For dear to me as light and life 15 Was my sweet Highland Mary. Our parting was fu
Page 38 - Thy dewy fingers draw While Spring shall pour his showers, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing tresses, meekest Eve ! While Summer loves to sport Beneath thy lingering light; While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves ; 45 Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air Affrights thy shrinking train And rudely rends thy robes
Page 44 - 1 will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only Luve ! And fare thee weel awhile ! And I will come again, my Luve, 15 Tho' it were ten thousand mile. HIGHLAND MARY Ye banks and braes and streams around