The bridal night; The first poet; and other poems

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Blackie, Fullarton, 1831 - Scottish poetry - 246 pages
 

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Page x - Star of descending night ! fair is thy light in the west ! thou liftest thy unshorn head from thy cloud ; thy steps are stately on thy hill. What dost thou behold in the plain? The stormy winds are laid. The murmur of the torrent comes from afar. Roaring waves climb the distant rock. The flies of evening are on their feeble wings : the hum of their course is on the field. What dost thou behold, fair light? But thou dost smile...
Page 231 - O YE WHO HAVE SEEN THE GLORY OF ALP ARSLAN EXALTED TO THE HEAVENS, REPAIR TO MARU, AND YOU WILL BEHOLD IT BURIED IN THE DUST!
Page 225 - Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest from thy towers to-day; yet a few years, and the blast of the desert comes; it howls in thy empty court, and whistles round thy half-worn shield.
Page 231 - Joseph, who was instantly cut in pieces. The wound was mortal; and the Turkish prince bequeathed a dying admonition to the pride of kings. "In my youth," said Alp Arslan, "I was advised by a sage to humble myself before God; to distrust my own strength; and never to despise the most contemptible foe.
Page 231 - ... and the spoils of Anatolia, from Antioch to the Black Sea. The fairest part of Asia was subject to his laws: twelve hundred princes, or the sons of princes, stood before his throne; and two hundred thousand soldiers marched under his banners.
Page 132 - curses upon thy head, O Roman ; for thou only takest the privilege allowed by the laws of war : but may the gods of Carthage, and thou in concert with them, punish, according to his deserts, the false wretch, who has betrayed his country, his gods, his wife, his children !' Then directing herself to Asdrubal,
Page 80 - They are neither grey nor blackened ; like the bones of man, they seem to whiten under the sun of the desert. Here is no lichen, no moss, no rank grass or mantling ivy, no wall-flower or wild fig-tree to robe them, and to conceal their deformities, and bloom above them. No : — all is the nakedness of desolation...
Page 181 - A melancholy reflection on the vicissitudes of human greatness forced itself on his mind, and he repeated an elegant distich of Persian poetry: 'The spider has wove his web in the Imperial palace, and the owl hath sung her watch-song on the towers of Afrasiab.
Page xiii - Walker's Key to the Classical Pronunciation of Greek, Latin, and Scripture Proper Names.
Page 164 - O'er the glorious solitude, The billows crouch around her as her slaves. How exulting are her crew, Each sight to them is new, As they sweep along the blue Of the waves. Fair herald of the fleets That yet shall cross the wave, Till the earth with ocean meets One universal grave, What armaments shall follow thee in joy ! Linking each distant land With trade's harmonious band, Or bearing havoc's brand To destroy ! TO THE COMET.

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