Encyclopaedia cambrensis: Y gwyddoniadur cymreig

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John Parry
Thomas Gee, 1863
 

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Página 130 - Sweet flower ! for by that name at last, When all my reveries are past, I call thee, and to that cleave fast, Sweet silent creature ! That breath'st with me in sun and air, Do thou, as thou art wont, repair My heart with gladness, and a share Of thy meek nature ! TO THE SAME FLOWER.
Página 128 - The idea of her life shall sweetly creep Into his study of imagination, And every lovely organ of her life Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, More moving, delicate, and full of life, Into the eye and prospect of his soul, Than when she liv'd indeed...
Página 131 - Stop and consider ! life is but a day ; A fragile dew-drop on its perilous way From a tree's summit ; a poor Indian's sleep While his boat hastens to the monstrous steep Of Montmorenci. Why so sad a moan? Life is the rose's hope while yet unblown ; The reading of an ever-changing tale ; The light uplifting of a maiden's veil...
Página 129 - Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Página 124 - The use of this feigned history hath been to give some shadow of satisfaction to the mind of man in those points wherein the nature of things doth deny it, the world being in proportion inferior to the soul : by reason whereof there is, agreeable to the spirit of man, a more ample greatness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute variety, than can be found in the nature of things.
Página 130 - A nun demure, of lowly port ; Or sprightly maiden, of Love's court, In thy simplicity the sport Of all temptations ; A queen in crown of rubies drest ; A starveling in a scanty vest ; Are all, as seems to suit thee best, Thy appellations.
Página 203 - A hyn yma hefyd, gan roddi cwbl ddiwydrwydd, chwanegwch at eich öydd, rinwedd ; ac at rinwedd, wybodaeth ; ac at wybodaeth, gymedrolder ; ac at gymedrolder, amynedd ; ac at amynedd, dduwioldeb ; ac at dduwioldeb, garedigrwydd brawdol ; ac at garedigrwydd brawdol, gariad.
Página 131 - An opulent Soul Dropt in my path like a great cup of gold, All rich and rough with stories of the gods...
Página 131 - The hatefull messengers of heavy things, Of death and dolour telling sad tidings ; Whiles sad Celeno, sitting on a clift, A song of bale and bitter sorrow sings, That hart of flint a sunder could have rift : Which having ended, after him she flyeth swift.
Página 161 - Canys felly y carodd Duw y byd, fel y rhoddodd efe ei uniganedig Fab, fel DOSB. I. CTP. IT.] И na choller pwy bynag a gredo ynddo ef, ond caffael o hono fywyd tragwyddol;

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