Choice Poems and LyricsWhittaker, 1862 - 317 pages |
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Page xi
... Lord 27 Drummond , William 176 Dryden , John 264 CAMPBELL , Thomas 67 Dyer , John . 146 Carew , Thomas 217 Carlisle , Earl of 189 FALCONER , William 211 Chatterton , Thomas 196 Fergusson , Robert 181 Cibber , Colley · 263 Fletcher ...
... Lord 27 Drummond , William 176 Dryden , John 264 CAMPBELL , Thomas 67 Dyer , John . 146 Carew , Thomas 217 Carlisle , Earl of 189 FALCONER , William 211 Chatterton , Thomas 196 Fergusson , Robert 181 Cibber , Colley · 263 Fletcher ...
Page xii
... Lord Mackay , Charles . Marlowe , Christopher Marvell , Andrew . Mason , William Merrick , James 15 SCOTT , Sir Walter · IO • 290 Shakspere , William Shenstone , William Shirley , James • • 234 Sigourney , Mrs. L. H. 222 Smith ...
... Lord Mackay , Charles . Marlowe , Christopher Marvell , Andrew . Mason , William Merrick , James 15 SCOTT , Sir Walter · IO • 290 Shakspere , William Shenstone , William Shirley , James • • 234 Sigourney , Mrs. L. H. 222 Smith ...
Page xix
... long we dwell , Thus torn apart : Time's shadows like the shuttle flee ; And , dark howe'er life's night may be , Beyond the grave I'll meet with thee , Casa Wappy ! Lord Macaulay . Born 1800. Died 1859 . IVRY . Casa Wappy . 9.
... long we dwell , Thus torn apart : Time's shadows like the shuttle flee ; And , dark howe'er life's night may be , Beyond the grave I'll meet with thee , Casa Wappy ! Lord Macaulay . Born 1800. Died 1859 . IVRY . Casa Wappy . 9.
Page xix
Choice poems. Lord Macaulay . Born 1800. Died 1859 . IVRY . * * Now glory to the Lord of Hosts , from whom all glories are ! And glory to our sovereign liege , King Henry of Navarre ! Now let there be the merry sound of music and of ...
Choice poems. Lord Macaulay . Born 1800. Died 1859 . IVRY . * * Now glory to the Lord of Hosts , from whom all glories are ! And glory to our sovereign liege , King Henry of Navarre ! Now let there be the merry sound of music and of ...
Page xix
... line , a deafening shout , " God save our Lord the King . " " An if my standard - bearer fall , as fall full well he may , For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray , Press where ye see my white plume shine , amidst Ivry . I I.
... line , a deafening shout , " God save our Lord the King . " " An if my standard - bearer fall , as fall full well he may , For never saw I promise yet of such a bloody fray , Press where ye see my white plume shine , amidst Ivry . I I.
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Common terms and phrases
Adelaide Anne Procter beauty beneath bird bless blest bloom Born bosom bower brave breast breath bright brow Casa Wappy charms cheerful cloud cold dark David Macbeth Moir dear death deep delight Died dost doth earth eternal eyes fair farewell fear flame flow flower gaze glory glowing grace grave green Grongar Hill hand happy hast hath heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre Henry of Navarre hills hope hour King light Lochaber looked Lord lyre MARGUERITE OF FRANCE morning mother Mother's Love mourn nature's ne'er never Nevermore night o'er peace pleasure praise pride Queen Quoth the Raven rill rise rose round shade shore sigh sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spring star stream sweet tears thee thine thou art throne toil trembling Twas vale voice waves weep wild William Shenstone wind wing Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 26 - Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly, Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore; For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door — Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as
Page 25 - Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,— " Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, " art sure no craven, Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore: Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore !" Quoth the Raven,
Page 29 - thing of evil ! — prophet still, if bird or devil ! By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore — Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore?
Page 28 - Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!' Quoth the Raven 'Nevermore.' 'Prophet!' said I, 'thing of evil! prophet still, if bird or devil! Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore, Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted On this home by Horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!
Page 22 - Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore, Nameless here for evermore.
Page 47 - Dear lovely bowers of innocence and ease, Seats of my youth, when every sport could please, How often have I loitered o'er thy green, Where humble happiness endeared each scene...
Page 48 - Along thy glades, a solitary guest, The hollow-sounding bittern guards its nest ; Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies, And tires their echoes with unvaried cries ; Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all, And the long grass o'ertops the mouldering wall ; And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand, Far, far away thy children leave the land.
Page 6 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Page 46 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. But Linden, saw another sight, When the drum beat, at dead of night, Commanding fires of death to light The darkness of her scenery.
Page 23 - And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain Thrilled me— filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before; So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, "* Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door, Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door: This it is and nothing more.