Poetry, a lecture1858 |
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Page 4
... harp a careless hand he flings , And boldly sinks into the sounding strings . The figured games of Greece the column grace , Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race . The youths hang o'er the chariot as they run ; The fiery steeds seem ...
... harp a careless hand he flings , And boldly sinks into the sounding strings . The figured games of Greece the column grace , Neptune and Jove survey the rapid race . The youths hang o'er the chariot as they run ; The fiery steeds seem ...
Page 28
... harp from off the wall Where shines the sun aslant ! The sun may shine , and we be cold- O harken , loving hearts and bold , Unto my wild romaunt . " The Lady Margret is represented as sitting by a river at night - a calm star - lit ...
... harp from off the wall Where shines the sun aslant ! The sun may shine , and we be cold- O harken , loving hearts and bold , Unto my wild romaunt . " The Lady Margret is represented as sitting by a river at night - a calm star - lit ...
Page 32
... he stroked its face , As it howled to see him weep . A fair child kissed the dead , But shrank before its cold ; And alone , yet proudly , in his hall Did stand a baron old . Hang up my harp again ! I have no voice 32 LECTURE ON POETRY .
... he stroked its face , As it howled to see him weep . A fair child kissed the dead , But shrank before its cold ; And alone , yet proudly , in his hall Did stand a baron old . Hang up my harp again ! I have no voice 32 LECTURE ON POETRY .
Page 33
Frederick Hinde. Hang up my harp again ! I have no voice for song ; Not song , but wail , and mourners pale , Not bards , to love belong . O failing human love ! O light , by darkness known ! O false , the while thou treadest earth ! O ...
Frederick Hinde. Hang up my harp again ! I have no voice for song ; Not song , but wail , and mourners pale , Not bards , to love belong . O failing human love ! O light , by darkness known ! O false , the while thou treadest earth ! O ...
Page 38
... harp of Eolus , the strings of which are mute till the chance breeze passing wakes them into passionate melody- in the murmur of 66 the autumnal wind , that fitful plays A wailing dirge unto the dying year , Amid the silence of the ...
... harp of Eolus , the strings of which are mute till the chance breeze passing wakes them into passionate melody- in the murmur of 66 the autumnal wind , that fitful plays A wailing dirge unto the dying year , Amid the silence of the ...
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Common terms and phrases
Adonais adored ancient halls aspi bards beauteous Beleaguered breath bright brow brutal emperor bye-work calm her smile canst thou renounce charm couplet cultivated dark delight doth drag Authority earth ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING England's dead Eternal eyes Fear feel flowers glowing Godhead gold to matchless harp hath heart Heaven HOMER honour human immortal Juvenal lady LIVERPOOL Lord Bacon Lord BYRON low shadowy laughter Margret MARPLES matchless purity refined melody midnight mind morning morning star mournful Muse Music neath night noble o'er pall passionate phantoms PINDAR Pleasures of Poetry poem Poet praise rain rapture recitation rich rolling clouds Romaunt rose sails were never saw the agony shadows shore similes solemn song sons of learning SOPHOCLES sorrow soul spectral camp spirit stanza star sublime sweep sweet taper's flickering light tears teem tempest given thee trembling throng veil verse wail wave wild wind witchery
Popular passages
Page 11 - Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light, and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood? Alas! they all are in their graves, the gentle race of flowers Are lying in their lowly beds, with the fair and good of ours. The rain is falling where they lie, but the cold November rain Calls not from out the gloomy earth the lovely ones again.
Page 44 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me That my soul cannot resist; A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Page 44 - Such songs have power to quiet The restless pulse of care, And come like the benediction That follows after prayer. Then read from the treasured volume The poem of thy choice, And lend to the rhyme of the poet The beauty of thy voice. And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs, And as silently steal away.
Page 45 - To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given, But all his serious thoughts had rest in Heaven. As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form, Swells from the vale and midway leaves the storm, Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
Page 9 - White as a sea-fog, landward bound, The spectral camp was seen, And, with a sorrowful, deep sound, The river flowed between. No other voice, nor sound was there, No drum, nor sentry's pace; The mist-like banners clasped the air, As clouds with clouds embrace. But, when the old cathedral bell Proclaimed the morning prayer, The white pavilions rose and fell On the alarm-ed air. Down the broad valley fast and far, The troubled army fled; Up rose the glorious morning star, The ghastly host was dead.
Page 37 - Oh how can'st thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields ; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, Oh how can'st thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven...
Page 27 - And they are gone: ay, ages long ago These lovers fled away into the storm. That night the Baron dreamt of many a woe, And all his warrior-guests with shade and form Of witch, and demon, and large coffin-worm, Were long be-nightmared.
Page 11 - THE melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers...
Page 49 - This thirst belongs to the immortality of Man. It is at once a consequence and an indication of his perennial existence. It is the desire of the moth for the star. It is no mere appreciation of the Beauty before us, but a wild effort to reach the Beauty above.
Page 12 - I see the muddy wave, the dreary shore, The sluggish streams that slowly creep below, Which mortals visit, and return no more. Farewell, ye blooming fields ! ye cheerful plains! Enough for me the churchyard's lonely mound, Where melancholy with still silence reigns, And the rank grass waves o'er the cheerless ground. There let me wander at the...