The Poetical Sketch-book: Including a Third Edition of Australia

Bull, 1829 - 286 sider

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Side 138 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold ; Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them : the oars were silver ; Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water, which they beat, to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Side 69 - Time which antiquates antiquities, and hath an art to make dust of all things, hath yet spared these minor monuments.
Side 9 - Who, as she smiles in the silvery light, Spreading her wings on the bosom of night, Alone on the deep, as the moon in the sky, A phantom of beauty, could deem, with a sigh, That so lovely a...
Side 8 - O'er the glad waves, like a child of the sun, See the tall vessel goes gallantly on ; Full to the breeze she unbosoms her sail, And her pennon streams onward, like hope, in the gale ; The winds come around her, in murmur and song, And the surges rejoice as they bear her along : See ! she looks up to the golden-edged clouds, And the sailor sings gaily aloft in the shrouds...
Side 9 - Night on the waves ! — and the moon is on high, Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky ; Treading its depths, in the power of her might. And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light Look to the waters, — asleep on their breast, Seems not the ship like an island of rest ? Bright and alone on the shadowy main, Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain...
Side 264 - O'er the slumbering tides, In the calm moonlight! The star of the north Shows her golden eye, — But a brighter looks forth From yon lattice, on high ! Her taper is out, And the silver beam Floats the maiden about, Like a beautiful dream ! And the beat of her heart Makes her tremble all o'er, — And she lists, with a start, To the dash of the oar...
Side 10 - A phantom of beauty! could deem, with a sigh, That so lovely a thing is the mansion of sin, And souls that are smitten lie bursting within. Who — as he watches her silently gliding, — Remembers that wave after wave is dividing Bosoms that sorrow and guilt could not sever, Hearts that are parted and broken for ever ! Or deems that he watches afloat on the wave, The death-bed of hope, or the young spirit's grave...
Side 10 - With streamers afloat, and with canvass unfurled ; All gladness and glory, to wandering eyes, Yet chartered by sorrow, and freighted with sighs : Fading and false is the aspect it wears, As the smiles we put on, just to cover our tears ; And the withering thoughts that the world cannot know, Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below ; Whilst the vessel drives on to that desolate shore, Where the dreams of our childhood are vanished and o'er.
Side 87 - ... an eye as bright Is dimmed, a heart as true is broken, And turn thee from thy land of light To waste on these some little token. But do not weep : I could not bear To stain thy cheek with sorrow's trace ; I would not draw one single tear, For worlds, down that beloved face. As soon would I, if power were given, Pluck out the bow from yonder sky, And free the prisoned floods of heaven, As call one teardrop to thine eye.
Side 1 - Valley" will not bear a comparison with the " Hall of Eblis." BRIDE OF ABYDOS, A TURKISH TALE. " Hart we never loved so kindly, " Had we never loved so blindly, " Never met or never parted, " We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

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