Midnight musings, poems1832 |
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Page 2
... O'er mighty forests loves to play , And pierce the darkness and the gloom That dwell within their leafy tomb ; Or when she gives her pallid beam To dance upon the flowing stream , Whose infant waves still ripple on And tremble ' neath ...
... O'er mighty forests loves to play , And pierce the darkness and the gloom That dwell within their leafy tomb ; Or when she gives her pallid beam To dance upon the flowing stream , Whose infant waves still ripple on And tremble ' neath ...
Page 3
Midnight musings. As flitting o'er her virgin orb , Their fleecy skirts her rays absorb- And man her still , her soft control Owns in each feeling of his soul . It is the hour when manhood deems That once again ... o'er her virgin orb, ...
Midnight musings. As flitting o'er her virgin orb , Their fleecy skirts her rays absorb- And man her still , her soft control Owns in each feeling of his soul . It is the hour when manhood deems That once again ... o'er her virgin orb, ...
Page 4
... o'er all— When he that wakes to hail the streak Of light that gilds the mountain peak , The first sweet odour to inhale That comes upon the morning gale- Whose footsteps crush the dewy globes That flowers wear as nightly robes- A purer ...
... o'er all— When he that wakes to hail the streak Of light that gilds the mountain peak , The first sweet odour to inhale That comes upon the morning gale- Whose footsteps crush the dewy globes That flowers wear as nightly robes- A purer ...
Page 7
... o'er night : But ARTHUR , ere he goes , essays To wake the maiden , if perchance The music of his once - loved lays May win for him one parting glance- One smile to give his soul delight , One word to cheer him in the fight- And thus ...
... o'er night : But ARTHUR , ere he goes , essays To wake the maiden , if perchance The music of his once - loved lays May win for him one parting glance- One smile to give his soul delight , One word to cheer him in the fight- And thus ...
Page 8
... o'er England bore Her banner , drenched with English gore , And England's best and bravest blood Sank in the plain , or dyed the flood ; While Yorkists and Lancastrians fell Alike beneath its wasting spell , And discord's flambeau ...
... o'er England bore Her banner , drenched with English gore , And England's best and bravest blood Sank in the plain , or dyed the flood ; While Yorkists and Lancastrians fell Alike beneath its wasting spell , And discord's flambeau ...
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Common terms and phrases
AGNES amid anguish arrayed ARTHUR balmy banner battle beam beauty beneath bitter bloom breast breathe bright bring brow calm cheek cheer CLIFFORD's CLIFFORD's tower clouds dark death decay deep delight DEMERARA dew-drops DIRGE E'en early earth fade faint fairy falchions fame farewell feelings flowers gallant band gaze gentle gladness gloom glory grief hath heard Heaven holy hopes laurel wreath life's light lonely look of love lour lyre maiden rest mem'ry merry England mirth moonlight morning mourn neath night o'er ocean pain pale path peace perchance perfume placid plain pleasures pow'r pride pure Queen reigns reigns o'er rill scene seems shed shine shone silent sleep smile sorrow soul spirit splendour star strife tears thee thine thou thoughts thro Tis sweet tomb transient vale vanished VESPER HOUR visage voice wake warrior weary ween wings withered young heart youth
Popular passages
Page 59 - OFT, in the stilly night, Ere Slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me ; The smiles, the tears, Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken ! Thus, in the stilly night...
Page 67 - Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued ; And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound — A tone of music, — summer's eve — or spring, A flower — the wind — the Ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
Page 48 - Twere now to be most happy, for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.
Page 56 - O, that the slave had forty thousand lives ! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, lago ; All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven : 'Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell ! Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate ! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For 'tis of aspics
Page 89 - Where the wicked cease from troubling And the weary are at rest !