Class-book of English poetry, Volume 21866 |
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Page 202
... tell my miserable tale to all who lend an ear . Thus sitting by your happy hearth , beside your mother's knee , How should you know the miseries and dangers of the sea ? MARY HOWITT . LITTLE MINNIE . ART thou weary , little Minnie ? Lay ...
... tell my miserable tale to all who lend an ear . Thus sitting by your happy hearth , beside your mother's knee , How should you know the miseries and dangers of the sea ? MARY HOWITT . LITTLE MINNIE . ART thou weary , little Minnie ? Lay ...
Page 209
... , That fain would ask relief , Yet can but tell of agony ; - This is a mother's grief ! SOUTHEY . Through dreary days , and darker nights , To trace 14 ENGLISH POETRY . 209 Then Mary could feel the heart-blood curdle cold...
... , That fain would ask relief , Yet can but tell of agony ; - This is a mother's grief ! SOUTHEY . Through dreary days , and darker nights , To trace 14 ENGLISH POETRY . 209 Then Mary could feel the heart-blood curdle cold...
Page 221
... tell us , Is there One who reigns on high ? Has He bid you buy and sell us , Speaking from His throne , the sky ? Ask Him if your knotted scourges , Matches , blood - extorting screws , Are the means which duty urges Agents of His will ...
... tell us , Is there One who reigns on high ? Has He bid you buy and sell us , Speaking from His throne , the sky ? Ask Him if your knotted scourges , Matches , blood - extorting screws , Are the means which duty urges Agents of His will ...
Page 223
... tell Where shone the face we loved so well , In sadness , or in mirth ! WILSON . THE CATARACT OF LODORE , HERE it comes sparkling , And there it lies darkling ; Here smoking and frothing , Its tumults and wrath in , It hastens along ...
... tell Where shone the face we loved so well , In sadness , or in mirth ! WILSON . THE CATARACT OF LODORE , HERE it comes sparkling , And there it lies darkling ; Here smoking and frothing , Its tumults and wrath in , It hastens along ...
Page 226
... tell me , I charge you , ye clan of my spouse , Why fold ye your mantles , why cloud ye your brows ? " So spake the rude chieftain : no answer is made , But each mantle unfolding , a dagger displayed ! " I dreamed of my lady , I dreamed ...
... tell me , I charge you , ye clan of my spouse , Why fold ye your mantles , why cloud ye your brows ? " So spake the rude chieftain : no answer is made , But each mantle unfolding , a dagger displayed ! " I dreamed of my lady , I dreamed ...
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Common terms and phrases
Argentine art thou bells beneath bless bless'd blood blow brave breast breath bright brow cheek chestnut horse child cloud cold cried crown dark dead death deep doth dread dream earth ENGLISH POETRY faint fair father fear flag of England gallant galloped gaze gleam Glenara gold grave grief guilders hand happy hast hath heard heart heaven helmet of Navarre king Lady Clare laugh light Lochinvar looked Lord William loud mighty mirth morning mother mourn ne'er Netherby never night o'er ocean pale pray prayer rest roar rock Rosabelle round sail Saxon shore sigh silence SIR WALTER SCOTT sleep smile soul sound spear stars stood storm stream sweet sword Talitha Cumi tears tell thee thine throne Tis green tree Twas village maid voice wave weary weep wept Weser wild wind
Popular passages
Page 280 - Hear the sledges with the bells Silver bells! What a world of merriment their melody foretells! How they tinkle, tinkle, tinkle, In the icy air of night! While the stars that oversprinkle All the heavens, seem to twinkle With a crystalline delight...
Page 344 - It must be so — Plato, thou reason'st well ! — Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, This longing after immortality ? Or whence this secret dread, and inward horror, Of falling into nought ? why shrinks the soul Back on herself, and startles at destruction ? 'Tis the divinity that stirs within us ; 'Tis heaven itself, that points out an hereafter, And intimates eternity to man. Eternity ! thou pleasing, dreadful, thought ! Through what variety of untried being, Through what new scenes...
Page 301 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Page 315 - 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 300 - Whom mortals call the moon, Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor, By the midnight breezes strewn ; And wherever the beat of her unseen feet, Which only the angels hear, May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof The stars peep behind her and peer ; And I laugh to see them whirl and flee, Like a swarm of golden bees...
Page 299 - I BRING fresh showers for the thirsting flowers, From the seas and the streams ; I bear light shade for the leaves when laid In their noon-day dreams ; From my wings are shaken the dews that waken The sweet buds every one, When rocked to rest on their mother's breast, As she dances about the sun.
Page 274 - Eske river where ford there was none ; But, ere he alighted at Netherby gate, The bride had consented, the gallant came late : For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.
Page 330 - King is come to marshal us, in all his armor drest, And he has bound a snow-white plume upon his gallant crest. He looked upon his people, and a tear was in his eye ; He looked upon the traitors, and his glance was stern and high. Right graciously he smiled on us, as rolled from wing to wing, Down all our line, a deafening shout,
Page 281 - Oh, from out the sounding cells What a gush of euphony voluminously wells ! How it swells ! How it dwells On the Future ! how it tells Of the rapture that impels To the swinging and the ringing Of the bells, bells, bells, Of the bells, bells, bells, bells— To the rhyming and the chiming of the bells...
Page 289 - for Aix is in sight! "How they'll greet us!" — and all in a moment his roan Rolled neck and croup over, lay dead as a stone; And there was my Roland to bear the whole weight Of the news which alone could save Aix from her fate, With his nostrils like pits full of blood to the brim, And with circles of red for his eye-sockets