The Poetical MelangeG. A. Douglas, 1828 - English poetry |
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Page 37
... of its fate And of her own . Yet had she many days Of sorrow in the world , but never wept . She lived on alms ; and carried in her hand . Some withered stalks , she gathered in the spring : THE POETICAL MELANGE . 37.
... of its fate And of her own . Yet had she many days Of sorrow in the world , but never wept . She lived on alms ; and carried in her hand . Some withered stalks , she gathered in the spring : THE POETICAL MELANGE . 37.
Page 38
... never spoke Her grave Of her deceiver , father , mother , home , Or child , or heaven , or hell , or God , but still In lonely places walked , and ever gazed Upon the withered , stalks , and talked to them . Till wasted to the shadow of ...
... never spoke Her grave Of her deceiver , father , mother , home , Or child , or heaven , or hell , or God , but still In lonely places walked , and ever gazed Upon the withered , stalks , and talked to them . Till wasted to the shadow of ...
Page 41
... never closed the iron door Against the desolate and poor . The Duchess marked his weary pace , His timid mien , and reverend face , And bade her . page the menials tell , That they should tend the old man well : For she had known ...
... never closed the iron door Against the desolate and poor . The Duchess marked his weary pace , His timid mien , and reverend face , And bade her . page the menials tell , That they should tend the old man well : For she had known ...
Page 43
... never thought to sing again . It was not framed for village churls , But for high dames and mighty earls ; He had played it to King Charles the Good , When he kept court in Holyrood ; And much he wished , yet feared , to try The long ...
... never thought to sing again . It was not framed for village churls , But for high dames and mighty earls ; He had played it to King Charles the Good , When he kept court in Holyrood ; And much he wished , yet feared , to try The long ...
Page 68
... joins his little hands in prayer , Telling of Him who sees in secret there ! And now the volume on her knee has caught His wandering eye - now many a written thought Never to die , with many a lisping sweet His 68 THE POETICAL MELANGE .
... joins his little hands in prayer , Telling of Him who sees in secret there ! And now the volume on her knee has caught His wandering eye - now many a written thought Never to die , with many a lisping sweet His 68 THE POETICAL MELANGE .
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Common terms and phrases
Anon beam beauty beneath blessed blest bliss bloom bosom bower breast breath bright brow Byron calm charm cheek child clouds cold Cumnor dark dead dear death deep doom dream dust earth eternal fade fair Farewell father fear feel fled flowers frae gazed glory glowing gone grave grief harp hast hath heart heaven Helvellyn hope hour John Malcolm Kilmeny land life's light lisp live lonely look LORD BYRON Mariamne MINSTREL BOY morning mortal mother mountain mourn ne'er never night o'er peace perished band praise prayer rapture rest rose round Samian wine scene seraph shade shed shining book shore sigh silent skies sleep slumber smile song sorrow soul spirit star sweet tears tempest thee thine thou art thought tomb trembling Twas twill vile bands voice wave ween weep wept wild winds wing youth
Popular passages
Page 131 - ALL thoughts,' all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve...
Page 24 - Tis now become a history little known, That once we call'd the pastoral house our own. Short-lived possession ! but the record fair, That memory keeps of all thy kindness there, Still outlives many a storm, that has effaced A thousand other themes less deeply traced.
Page 85 - The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, Have found the fame your shores refuse : Their place of birth alone is mute To sounds which echo further west Than your sires'
Page 222 - Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, So sweet, we know not we are listening to it, Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with my Thought, Yea, with my Life and Life's own secret joy: Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, Into the mighty vision passing — there As in her natural form, swelled vast to Heaven.
Page 85 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earned.
Page 37 - Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steed to battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven Far flashed the red artillery. But redder yet that light shall glow On Linden's hills of stained snow, And bloodier yet the torrent flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulph'rous canopy.
Page 166 - Which an earthquake rocks and swings, An eagle alit one moment may sit In the light of its golden wings.
Page 37 - 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 62 - If aught should tempt my soul to stray From heavenly wisdom's narrow way ; To fly the good I would pursue, Or do the sin I would not do ; Still He, who felt temptation's power, Shall guard me in that dangerous hour.
Page 22 - THAT those lips had language ! Life has passed With me but roughly since I heard thee last. Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smile I see, The same, that oft in childhood solaced me ; Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, " Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away...