A New Library of Poetry and Song, 2 tomasWilliam Cullen Bryant J. B. Ford, 1877 - 934 psl. |
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453 psl.
... Beneath whose calm inspiring influence Science his views enlarges , Art refines , And swelling commerce opens all her ports ; Blessed be the man divine who gives us thee ! Who bids the trumpet hush his horrid clang , Nor blow the giddy ...
... Beneath whose calm inspiring influence Science his views enlarges , Art refines , And swelling commerce opens all her ports ; Blessed be the man divine who gives us thee ! Who bids the trumpet hush his horrid clang , Nor blow the giddy ...
457 psl.
... beneath the Cross , And save King Robert's vow ; But other hands shall bear it back , Not , James of Douglas , thou ! ' " Now , by thy knightly faith , I pray , Sir Simon of the Lee , For truer friend had never man Than thou hast been ...
... beneath the Cross , And save King Robert's vow ; But other hands shall bear it back , Not , James of Douglas , thou ! ' " Now , by thy knightly faith , I pray , Sir Simon of the Lee , For truer friend had never man Than thou hast been ...
458 psl.
... Beneath the watch - tower's wall , We heard the clash of the atabals , And the trumpet's wavering call . " Why sounds yon Eastern music here So wantonly and long , And whose the crowd of armed men That round yon standard throng ...
... Beneath the watch - tower's wall , We heard the clash of the atabals , And the trumpet's wavering call . " Why sounds yon Eastern music here So wantonly and long , And whose the crowd of armed men That round yon standard throng ...
461 psl.
... beneath them , but above shall grow In its next verdure , when this fiery mass Of living valor , rolling on the foe , And burning with high hope , shall molder cold and low . Last noon beheld them full of lusty life , Last eve in ...
... beneath them , but above shall grow In its next verdure , when this fiery mass Of living valor , rolling on the foe , And burning with high hope , shall molder cold and low . Last noon beheld them full of lusty life , Last eve in ...
462 psl.
... Beneath their fire , in full career , Rushed on the ponderous cuirassier , The lancer couched his ruthless spear , And , hurrying as to havoc near , The cohorts ' eagles flew . In one dark torrent , broad and strong , The advancing ...
... Beneath their fire , in full career , Rushed on the ponderous cuirassier , The lancer couched his ruthless spear , And , hurrying as to havoc near , The cohorts ' eagles flew . In one dark torrent , broad and strong , The advancing ...
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Pagrindiniai terminai ir frazės
arms beauty bells beneath blessed blood blow blue brave breast breath bright cold comes cried dark dead dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fall fear feel fell field fire flowers give gold grave green hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hills hour Italy JOHN king land leaves light live look Lord mind morning never night o'er once pass peace poor rest rise rock rolled rose round seemed seen shore side sing sleep smile song soul sound spirit stand stars stood stream strong sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand Till true turned voice wave wild wind wings wonder young
Populiarios ištraukos
626 psl. - Earth has not anything to show more fair : Dull would he be of soul who could pass by A sight so touching in its majesty: This City now doth, like a garment, wear The beauty of the morning; silent, bare, Ships, towers,, domes, theatres, and temples lie Open unto the fields, and to the sky; All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
815 psl. - MILTON ! thou should'st be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men ; Oh ! raise us up, return to us again ; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
556 psl. - Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord: He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored; He hath loosed the fateful lightning of his terrible swift sword: His truth is marching on.
783 psl. - Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water everywhere Nor any drop to drink.
709 psl. - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull Night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise; Then to come, in spite of sorrow, And at my window bid good morrow, Through the sweet-brier, or the vine, Or the twisted eglantine...
461 psl. - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
818 psl. - Peace to all such! but were there one whose fires True genius kindles, and fair fame inspires; Blest with each talent, and each art to please, And born to write, converse, and live with ease; Should such a man, too fond to rule alone, Bear, like the Turk, no brother near the throne...
723 psl. - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
709 psl. - Haste thee, nymph, and bring with thee Jest, and youthful jollity, Quips, and cranks, and wanton wiles, Nods, and becks, and wreathed smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek, And love to live in dimple sleek : Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides. Come, and trip it as you go, On the light fantastic toe...
657 psl. - Hear the tolling of the bells Iron bells! What a world of solemn thought their monody compels! In the silence of the night, How we shiver with affright At the melancholy menace of their tone! For every sound that floats From the rust within their throats Is a groan. And the people - ah, the people They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who tolling, tolling...