Woodcuts and VersesPrinted at the private Press of Lee Priory; by John Warwick., 1820 - 116 sider |
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Side 61
... a young blossom transplanted Than Sudeley sent forth in a palace to shine ? O where was the Lady whose beauty enchanted Like the Daughter of Bridges , the Pride of the Vine ? THE CAPTIVE LION . DERWENT STREAM . THE cottage of.
... a young blossom transplanted Than Sudeley sent forth in a palace to shine ? O where was the Lady whose beauty enchanted Like the Daughter of Bridges , the Pride of the Vine ? THE CAPTIVE LION . DERWENT STREAM . THE cottage of.
Side 71
... SUDELEY CASTLE . ' TIS now the hour the Wanderer strays Through covert paths , and woodland ways ; It is the starry - mantled hour , When slumber lulls each choral bower ; Alone Minerva's wakeful Bird From some sepulchral Yew is heard ...
... SUDELEY CASTLE . ' TIS now the hour the Wanderer strays Through covert paths , and woodland ways ; It is the starry - mantled hour , When slumber lulls each choral bower ; Alone Minerva's wakeful Bird From some sepulchral Yew is heard ...
Side 73
Edward Quillinan. TIENSLE DROIT Addressed to Sir E. B. Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley. STANZAS WRITTEN AT SUDELEY CASTLE . THE CROSS IN IRELAND . WHERE is thy glory , Sudeley ? though thy wall With stubborn ...
Edward Quillinan. TIENSLE DROIT Addressed to Sir E. B. Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley. STANZAS WRITTEN AT SUDELEY CASTLE . THE CROSS IN IRELAND . WHERE is thy glory , Sudeley ? though thy wall With stubborn ...
Side 75
Edward Quillinan. Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . 1. AMICUS MAIN AMOR LE DROIT Now savage elders flourish in thy courts ; The thistle now thy lorn recesses haunts ; Perch'd on thy walls the wild ...
Edward Quillinan. Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . 1. AMICUS MAIN AMOR LE DROIT Now savage elders flourish in thy courts ; The thistle now thy lorn recesses haunts ; Perch'd on thy walls the wild ...
Side 77
Edward Quillinan. Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . 1 THE DIAL . Brydges , the proud tear in thy dark eye swells , When History thy Forefathers ' fame displays , And hoar Tradition garrulously tells Tales that their ...
Edward Quillinan. Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . Sudeley Castle . 1 THE DIAL . Brydges , the proud tear in thy dark eye swells , When History thy Forefathers ' fame displays , And hoar Tradition garrulously tells Tales that their ...
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ancient Greece Avondale Avonmore beauty beguiling Bird bloom bowers breathe brow Brydges Calydonian Boar Cephisus charm cheek Clifton Halls crown dance daughter divine dreams Dunluce Castle e'en enchanted eyes Fair Bridges fair Lee Fairy all day Fan softly Fancy Fancy's fane Farewell to Lee feet flowers gale gentle Lady fair Goddess golden grace green sunny isle grove heart Herodotus hill hopes hunting the Fairy Keivin's Lapwing Lee Priory light Lord Chandos loved the Moon lovelier Lydian stream Maid that loved Medusa melancholy mellow merry in Clifton Monksdale Muse Nightingale Notes Nymph o'er Parian marble pensive pleasure Plutarch poet poetical pride Printer private Press proud Queen rocky shine sing smile song SONNET Soul spirit springs Stanza Sudeley Castle sung sweet sylvan tall Bird thine thou art Thucydides thy harp thy wall vale Vartrey verse voice wander warble wild wild-daisy wings wood Xenophon young Gleaner youth
Populære avsnitt
Side 131 - How sleep the brave, who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung : There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And Freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! TO MERCY.
Side 133 - Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects
Side 133 - God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day ; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live.
Side 133 - When he had better far have stretched his limbs Beside a brook in mossy forest-dell, By sun or moon-light, to the influxes Of shapes and sounds and shifting elements Surrendering his whole spirit, of his song And of his fame forgetful ! so his fame Should share in Nature's immortality, A venerable thing ! and so his song Should make all Nature lovelier, and itself Be loved like Nature...
Side 133 - A different lore : we may not thus profane Nature's sweet voices, always full of love And joyance ! 'Tis the merry Nightingale That crowds, and hurries, and precipitates With fast thick warble his delicious notes; As he were fearful that an April night Would be too short for him to utter forth His love-chant, and disburthen his full soul Of all its music...
Side 133 - Should share in Nature's immortality, A venerable thing! and so his song Should make all Nature lovelier, and itself Be loved like Nature! But 'twill not be...
Side 133 - Careering round, Joy wings his feet, Joy lifts him from the ground! Pointing to such, well might Cornelia say, When the rich casket shone in bright array,
Side 133 - And she hath watched Many a nightingale perch giddily On blossomy twig still swinging from the breeze, And to that motion tune his wanton song Like tipsy joy that reels with tossing head.
Side 133 - twill not be so; And youths and maidens most poetical, Who lose the deepening twilights of the spring In ball-rooms and hot theatres, they still Full of meek sympathy must heave their sighs O'er Philomela's pity-pleading strains.
Side 41 - Culling flowers of rhyme. Fancy's children, ever heedless, Why thus bribe the hours ? Death to prove the trouble needless Withers all your flowers ; Why then bribe the hours ? Like the sand so fast retreating, Thus your hopes shall fall ; Life and fame are just as fleeting ; Poets, flowers, and all...