A New Library of Poetry and Song, Volum 2William Cullen Bryant J. B. Ford, 1877 - 934 sider |
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Side 453
William Cullen Bryant. POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR . WAR . Arm , arm , you heavens , against these perjured. WAR FOR THE SAKE ... arms to spill mine enemies ' blood , But now in arms you strengthen it with yours : The grappling vigor and rough ...
William Cullen Bryant. POEMS OF PEACE AND WAR . WAR . Arm , arm , you heavens , against these perjured. WAR FOR THE SAKE ... arms to spill mine enemies ' blood , But now in arms you strengthen it with yours : The grappling vigor and rough ...
Side 454
... arms , and fiery steeds , Reflecting blaze on blaze , first met his view . Clouds began How glorious fall the ... Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured ...
... arms , and fiery steeds , Reflecting blaze on blaze , first met his view . Clouds began How glorious fall the ... Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured ...
Side 455
... arms Betook them , and the neighboring hills uptore : So hills amid the air encountered hills , Hurled to and fro with jaculation dire , That underground they fought in dismal shade ; Infernal noise ! war seemed a civil game To this ...
... arms Betook them , and the neighboring hills uptore : So hills amid the air encountered hills , Hurled to and fro with jaculation dire , That underground they fought in dismal shade ; Infernal noise ! war seemed a civil game To this ...
Side 456
... Arms were from shoulders sent ; Scalps to the teeth were rent ; Down the French peasants went ; Our men were hardy . This while our noble king , His broadsword brandishing , Down the French host did ding , As to o'erwhelm it ; And many ...
... Arms were from shoulders sent ; Scalps to the teeth were rent ; Down the French peasants went ; Our men were hardy . This while our noble king , His broadsword brandishing , Down the French host did ding , As to o'erwhelm it ; And many ...
Side 457
William Cullen Bryant. And many a deep wound lent , His arms with blood besprent , And many a cruel dent Bruised his helmet . Glo'ster , that duke so good , Next of the royal blood , For famous England stood With his brave brother ...
William Cullen Bryant. And many a deep wound lent , His arms with blood besprent , And many a cruel dent Bruised his helmet . Glo'ster , that duke so good , Next of the royal blood , For famous England stood With his brave brother ...
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Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
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
Populære avsnitt
Side 626 - 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.
Side 815 - 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.
Side 556 - 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.
Side 783 - 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.
Side 709 - 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...
Side 461 - 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!
Side 818 - 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...
Side 723 - 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.
Side 709 - 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...
Side 657 - 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...