Select specimens of English poetryLongman, Brown, Green, & Longmans, 1856 |
From inside the book
Results 6-10 of 100
Page xiii
... Thought and Deed · Pope 341 Pollok 343 Longfellow 343 345 C. R. Kennedy • 25. The Winter Storm 26 The Power of God 27. Human Frailty 28. The Spirit of Beauty 45. Hymu to Adversity 49. Address to Light 50. The Orphan Boy 370 Gray 371 ...
... Thought and Deed · Pope 341 Pollok 343 Longfellow 343 345 C. R. Kennedy • 25. The Winter Storm 26 The Power of God 27. Human Frailty 28. The Spirit of Beauty 45. Hymu to Adversity 49. Address to Light 50. The Orphan Boy 370 Gray 371 ...
Page 2
... thought of the morrow . We thought , as we hollowed his narrow bed , And smoothed down his lonely pillow , That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head , And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit ...
... thought of the morrow . We thought , as we hollowed his narrow bed , And smoothed down his lonely pillow , That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head , And we far away on the billow ! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit ...
Page 8
... thought he , their noble king , As his course he seaward sped ; - And each base slave like a guilty thing , Hung down his conscious head ; - He knew the ocean's Lord on high ! They , that he scorned their senseless lie . 3 His throne ...
... thought he , their noble king , As his course he seaward sped ; - And each base slave like a guilty thing , Hung down his conscious head ; - He knew the ocean's Lord on high ! They , that he scorned their senseless lie . 3 His throne ...
Page 11
... thought of the olden days ! HEMANS . VII . INSCRIPTION FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNEMEDE . " A CONFERENCE took place , June 15th , 1215 , between the king and the barons at Runnemede , between Windsor and Staines ; a spot ever since deservedly ...
... thought of the olden days ! HEMANS . VII . INSCRIPTION FOR A COLUMN AT RUNNEMEDE . " A CONFERENCE took place , June 15th , 1215 , between the king and the barons at Runnemede , between Windsor and Staines ; a spot ever since deservedly ...
Page 22
... thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend , Though a friend I am never to see . How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight , The tempest itself lags behind , And the swift - winged arrows of light ...
... thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend , Though a friend I am never to see . How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight , The tempest itself lags behind , And the swift - winged arrows of light ...
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Common terms and phrases
Arouse thee BARRY CORNWALL battle BATTLE OF KILLIECRANKIE beauty beneath BERNARD BARTON birds bless blow brave breast breath bright cheer Cleon clouds dark dead death deep delight Derivations doth dread dream earth ELIZA COOK ellipsis England English Poetry Etymology father fear feel flowers geography give glorious glory glow grave green Greenwich Hospital hand happy hath hear heard heart heaven honour hope hour human HUMPHREY GILBERT John Herschel king labour land light live look Lord mighty mind morning mountains nature never night noble o'er ocean Patrick Spence peace pleasure Pompey prayer rocks round RUNNEMEDE sail Samian wine shine ship shore sing sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit spring star storm sweet Syntax tear tempest thine things thought toil Twas voice waves wild wind wings words youth
Popular passages
Page 49 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war...
Page 194 - And sweep through the deep While the stormy winds do blow, — While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy winds do blow ! The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave : For the deck it was their field of fame, And ocean was their grave. Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell Your manly hearts shall glow, As ye sweep through the deep While the stormy winds do blow, — While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy winds do blow.
Page 39 - 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. He heard it, but he heeded not — his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away...
Page 281 - We look before and after, And pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter With some pain is fraught; Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
Page 274 - Man that is born of a woman Is of few days, and full of trouble. He cometh forth like a flower, and is cut down : He fleeth also as a shadow, and continueth not.
Page 337 - For a thousand years in thy sight Are but as yesterday when it is past, And as a watch in the night. Thou carriest them away as with a flood ; they are as a sleep : In the morning they are like grass which groweth up. In the morning it flourisheth, and groweth up ; In the evening it is cut down, and withereth.
Page 352 - And he was in the hinder part of the ship, asleep on a pillow : and they awake him, and say unto him, Master, carest thou not that we perish ? 39 And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.
Page 75 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Page 124 - It sounds to him like her mother's voice Singing in Paradise! He needs must think of her once more, How in the grave she lies; And with his hard, rough hand he wipes A tear out of his eyes.
Page 117 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.