Selections from the British Poets, Volume 2Harper & brothers, 1840 - English poetry |
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Page 14
... wild groves at eve the lonely swain Enraptured roams , to gaze on Nature's charms . They hate the sensual , and scorn the vain , The parasite their influence never warms , Nor him whose sordid soul the love of gold alarms . Though ...
... wild groves at eve the lonely swain Enraptured roams , to gaze on Nature's charms . They hate the sensual , and scorn the vain , The parasite their influence never warms , Nor him whose sordid soul the love of gold alarms . Though ...
Page 17
... wild , till Phœbus ' beam , Shot from the western cliff , released the weary team . Th ' exploit of strength , dexterity , or speed , To him nor vanity nor joy could bring . His heart , from cruel sport estranged , would bleed To work ...
... wild , till Phœbus ' beam , Shot from the western cliff , released the weary team . Th ' exploit of strength , dexterity , or speed , To him nor vanity nor joy could bring . His heart , from cruel sport estranged , would bleed To work ...
Page 18
... . Even sad vicissitude amused his soul : And if a sigh would sometimes intervene , And down his cheek a tear of pity roll , A sigh , a tear so sweet he wish'd not to control . " Oh ye wild groves , oh where is now 18 JAMES BEATTIE .
... . Even sad vicissitude amused his soul : And if a sigh would sometimes intervene , And down his cheek a tear of pity roll , A sigh , a tear so sweet he wish'd not to control . " Oh ye wild groves , oh where is now 18 JAMES BEATTIE .
Page 19
" Oh ye wild groves , oh where is now your bloom ! " ( The Muse interprets thus his tender thought ) , " Your flowers , your verdure , and your balmy gloom , Of late so grateful in the hour of drought ! Why do the birds , that song and ...
" Oh ye wild groves , oh where is now your bloom ! " ( The Muse interprets thus his tender thought ) , " Your flowers , your verdure , and your balmy gloom , Of late so grateful in the hour of drought ! Why do the birds , that song and ...
Page 22
... wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur ...
... wild brook babbling down the mountain side ; The lowing herd ; the sheepfold's simple bell ; The pipe of early shepherd dim descried In the lone valley ; echoing far and wide The clamorous horn along the cliffs above ; The hollow murmur ...
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Common terms and phrases
AE fond kiss art thou auld lang syne beauty beneath bless'd bloom bosom bower Branksome Hall breast breath bright brow burst of joy calm charms cheek clouds dark dead dear death deep delight dread dream earth ev'ry fair fame fancy fled flowers fond frae gale gaze gentle grave green happy harp hath hear heart Heaven hill hope hour John Gilpin JOSEPH ATKINSON Kilmeny land light living Lochiel lonely look lyre Marmion mirth morn mountain murmur muse Nature's ne'er never night o'er pass'd peace PIBROCH pleasure pow'r pride rapture rill rose round scene seem'd shade shine shore sigh silent sing sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spirit star stream sweet tears thee thine thou art thought Twas vale voice wandering wave weary weep wild wind wings Yarrow youth
Popular passages
Page 154 - Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone : Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare ; Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss, Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve; She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss, For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!
Page 152 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild ; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine ; Fast-fading violets cover'd up in leaves ; And mid-May's eldest child The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Page 311 - The floating clouds their state shall lend To her; for her the willow bend; Nor shall she fail to see Even in the motions of the Storm Grace that shall mould the Maiden's form By silent sympathy. "The stars of midnight shall be dear To her; and she shall lean her ear In many a secret place Where rivulets dance their wayward round, And beauty born of murmuring sound Shall pass into her face.
Page 153 - What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady? What men or gods are these? What maidens loth? What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape? What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?
Page 152 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee!
Page 32 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change, his place.
Page 196 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell; But hush!
Page 207 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes : Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Page 110 - Wha will be a traitor knave? Wha can fill a coward's grave? Wha sae base as be a slave? Let him turn and flee! Wha for Scotland's King and law Freedom's sword will strongly draw, Freeman stand, or freeman fa'?
Page 318 - Oh, listen ! for the vale profound Is overflowing with the sound. No nightingale did ever chaunt More welcome notes to weary bands Of travellers in some shady haunt Among Arabian sands : —A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird. Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.