New elegant extracts; a selection from the most eminent British poets and poetical translators, by R.A. Davenport, Volume 4 |
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Page 3
... thine . I deem'd that time , I deem'd that pride Had quench'd at length my boyish flame , Nor knew , till seated by thy side , My heart in all , -save hope , the same . Yet was I calm : I knew the time My breast would thrill before thy ...
... thine . I deem'd that time , I deem'd that pride Had quench'd at length my boyish flame , Nor knew , till seated by thy side , My heart in all , -save hope , the same . Yet was I calm : I knew the time My breast would thrill before thy ...
Page 19
... lips my spirit mix with thine . Now o'er dark wilds , or rugged rocks we stray , Love lights the gloom , and smooths the dreary way ; Now on soft banks our weary limbs repose , Where ELEGIES , AMATORY AND MISCELLANEOUS . 19.
... lips my spirit mix with thine . Now o'er dark wilds , or rugged rocks we stray , Love lights the gloom , and smooths the dreary way ; Now on soft banks our weary limbs repose , Where ELEGIES , AMATORY AND MISCELLANEOUS . 19.
Page 23
... thine ? Too well remembrance paints the fatal hour When love , great conqueror , summon'd all his power ; When bolder grown , your glances flash'd with fire , And your pale lips all trembled with desire ; Back to my heart my blood ...
... thine ? Too well remembrance paints the fatal hour When love , great conqueror , summon'd all his power ; When bolder grown , your glances flash'd with fire , And your pale lips all trembled with desire ; Back to my heart my blood ...
Page 29
... ! when the bands of sleep With sweet compulsion seal thine eyes , Think'st thou the dream that crowns thy rest E'er to my couch of sorrow flies ? The only bliss my soul can know , The only ELEGIES , AMATORY AND MISCELLANEOUS . 29 20.
... ! when the bands of sleep With sweet compulsion seal thine eyes , Think'st thou the dream that crowns thy rest E'er to my couch of sorrow flies ? The only bliss my soul can know , The only ELEGIES , AMATORY AND MISCELLANEOUS . 29 20.
Page 39
... thine eye , And yield my soul to softness and to love . Ah no , in pity snatch thy hand from mine , And hide those fatal beauties of thy cheek ; Nor let thine eyes so soft a look incline , Lest my fond heart with tenderness should break ...
... thine eye , And yield my soul to softness and to love . Ah no , in pity snatch thy hand from mine , And hide those fatal beauties of thy cheek ; Nor let thine eyes so soft a look incline , Lest my fond heart with tenderness should break ...
Common terms and phrases
adieu beams beauty beguile beneath bless bless'd bliss bloom bosom cold bower breast breath bright CHARLOTTE SMITH charm cheek cheer dark dear death despair dream e'er ELEGY eyes fade fair Fair city Fancy farewell fate feel flame flowers fond gale gay nature gentle gloom glow grace grave grief grove hast hear heart Heaven honours hope HOTWELLS hour hour of victory life's lips lonely LORD BYRON love restore love's Lover Lycidas lyre Maid with bosom mind Monody morn mourn Muse Naiad ne'er night nymph o'er pain pale pangs pass'd peace pity pride rapture rill rise round scenes scorn shade shine shore sigh silent skies sleep smile soft song soothe sorrows soul spring strain stream sweet tear tempest tender thee thine thou thought tomb Twas vale virtue voice wake wandering wave weep wild winds youth
Popular passages
Page 170 - Would'st softly speak, and stroke my head, and smile) Could those few pleasant days again appear, Might one wish bring them, would I wish them here ? I would not trust my heart ; — the dear delight Seems so to be desired, perhaps I might.
Page 193 - Ay me, I fondly dream, Had ye been there! — for what could that have done? What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore, The Muse herself, for her enchanting son Whom universal nature did lament, When by the rout that made the hideous roar His gory visage down the stream was sent, Down the swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore?
Page 172 - Thy indistinct expressions seem Like language utter'd in a dream ; Yet me they charm, whate'er the theme, My Mary! Thy silver locks, once auburn bright, Are still more lovely in my sight Than golden beams of orient light, My Mary ! For, could I view nor them nor thee, What sight worth seeing could I see ? The sun would rise in vain for me, My Mary ! Partakers of thy sad decline, Thy hands their little force resign ; Yet gently prest, press gently mine, My Mary!
Page 195 - Enow of such, as for their bellies' sake Creep and intrude and climb into the fold! Of other care they little reckoning make Than how to scramble at the shearers' feast, And shove away the worthy bidden guest; Blind mouths!
Page 198 - Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore In thy large recompense, and shalt be good To all that wander in that perilous flood.
Page 197 - Where the great vision of the guarded mount Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold ; Look homeward, angel, now, and melt with ruth : And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth.
Page 197 - Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where, other groves and other streams along, With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves, And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. There entertain him all the Saints above, In solemn troops, and sweet societies, That sing, and singing in their glory move, 180 And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes.
Page 193 - O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone and never must return! Thee, Shepherd, thee the Woods, and desert Caves, With wild Thyme and the gadding Vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes, mourn. The Willows, and the Hazel Copses green, Shall now no more be seen, Fanning their joyous Leaves to thy soft lays.
Page 170 - Shoots into port at some well-havened isle, Where spices breathe and brighter seasons smile, There sits quiescent on the floods, that show Her beauteous form reflected clear below, While airs impregnated with incense play Around her, fanning light her streamers gay, So thou, with sails how swift, hast reached the shore 'Where tempests never beat nor billows roar,' And thy loved consort on the dangerous tide Of life long since has anchored by thy side.
Page 126 - Sighs must fan it, tears must water, Sweat of ours must dress the soil. Think, ye masters iron-hearted, Lolling at your jovial boards ; Think how many backs have smarted For the sweets your cane affords.