Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Adah Arqua art thou Astarte beautiful behold beneath blood blue breast breath brow Byron Cain Canto charm cheek CHILDE HAROLD clime clouds cold Crown 8vo dare dark dead death deep DON JUAN dost dread dream dwell earth Edited eyes F. T. PALGRAVE feel foam gaze gentle Giaour glory Goethe grave hand hath heart heaven heaving hour immortal isle Leopardi light limbs live lone look look'd Lord Lucifer MANFRED MATTHEW ARNOLD mortal mountains ne'er never night o'er PARISINA pass'd POEMS poet poetic poetry roll'd rose round Samian wine seem'd seen shore SIEGE OF CORINTH sigh slave smile soul spirit Stanzas star steed stood Stopford Brooke sweet tears thee thine things thou art thou hast thought throne tomb turn'd twas Twere voice waters wave weep wild wind Wordsworth youth
Page 65 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece ! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung ! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Page 44 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown.
Page 111 - I see before me the Gladiator lie : He leans upon his hand — his manly brow Consents to death, but conquers agony ; And his droop'd head sinks gradually low ; And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one, Like the first of a thunder shower ; and now The arena swims around him — he is gone, Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.
Page 94 - Clear, placid Leman ! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction ; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That 1 with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.
Page 84 - Hereditary bondsmen ! know ye not Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?
Page 112 - He reck'd not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire, Butcher'd to make a Roman holiday — All this rush'd with his blood — Shall he expire And unavenged? Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Page 253 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!
Page 125 - Returning where my walk begun, Avoiding only, as I trod, My brothers' graves without a sod ; For if I thought with heedless tread My step profaned their lowly bed, My breath came gaspingly and thick, And my crush'd heart fell blind and sick.