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ancient arms bard battle beauty beneath blood bower breast breath bright brow called castle charm close clouds comes crowned dark dead death deep doth dream dwelling earth eyes face fair fall fear field flow flowers give glory grace grave gray green hand hath head hear heard heart heaven height hill holy horn hour king lady land leaves light live lonely look mighty mind morn mountain nature never night o'er o’er once passed past peace plain pleasure prince proud queene rest rise river rocks Rose round scene seemed seen shade shore side silent smile song soul sound spirit spread stand stood strain stream strong sweet thee thine thou thoughts towers trees turned vale voice walls waters wave wild wind woods youth
Página 173 - Of comfort no man speak: Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs; Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth; Let's choose executors and talk of wills : And yet not so — for what can we bequeath Save our deposed bodies to the ground? Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Página 255 - ROSE AYLMER AH, WHAT avails the sceptred race! Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee.
Página 56 - There was a Boy : ye knew him well, ye cliffs And islands of Winander ! — many a time At evening, when the earliest stars began To move along the edges of the hills...
Página 108 - Nor wilt thou then forget, That after many wanderings, many years Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs, And this green pastoral landscape, were to me More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!
Página 199 - Fill high the sparkling bowl, The rich repast prepare; Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: Close by the regal chair Fell Thirst and Famine scowl A baleful smile upon their baffled guest. Heard ye the din of battle bray, Lance to lance, and horse to horse ? Long years of havoc urge their destined course, And thro' the kindred squadrons mow their way.
Página 108 - For all sweet sounds and harmonies ; oh, then, If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief, Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts Of tender joy wilt thou remember me, And these my exhortations ! Nor, perchance, If I should be where I no more can hear Thy voice...
Página 198 - King ! their hundred arms they wave, Revenge on thee in hoarser murmurs breathe ; Vocal no more since Cambria's fatal day, To high-born Hoel's harp, or soft Llewellyn's lay.
Página 197 - Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay, As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side He wound with toilsome march his long array: Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance; 'To arms!
Página 94 - CHAUCER. AN old man in a lodge within a park ; The chamber walls depicted all around With portraitures of huntsman, hawk, and hound, And the hurt deer. He listeneth to the lark, Whose song comes with the sunshine through the dark Of painted glass in leaden lattice bound ; He listeneth and he laugheth at the sound, sea 354 Then writeth in a book like any clerk.