The Cambridge University Magazine, Volumen1,Tema 1W.P. Grant, 1840 |
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Página 19
... rest , for " cold he lies in the grave below . " - But where were ye , O ye friends to genius , when , stung with disappointment , distressed for food and raiment , with every frightful form of human misery painted on his fine ...
... rest , for " cold he lies in the grave below . " - But where were ye , O ye friends to genius , when , stung with disappointment , distressed for food and raiment , with every frightful form of human misery painted on his fine ...
Página 24
... rest he settled his speare , And ran at O'Rocke in full career , Their lances with the furious stroke Into a thousand shivers broke , Like as the thunder tears the oak , And scatters splinters here and there . And yet we have lingered ...
... rest he settled his speare , And ran at O'Rocke in full career , Their lances with the furious stroke Into a thousand shivers broke , Like as the thunder tears the oak , And scatters splinters here and there . And yet we have lingered ...
Página 25
... rest the souls of Narva and Mored , " Laid in the dust , and number'd with the dead ; Dear are their memories to us , and long , " 6 66 66 66 Long shall their attributes be known in song ; Their lives were transient as the meadow flower ...
... rest the souls of Narva and Mored , " Laid in the dust , and number'd with the dead ; Dear are their memories to us , and long , " 6 66 66 66 Long shall their attributes be known in song ; Their lives were transient as the meadow flower ...
Página 26
... deepest core his heaving breast , Heard but thy dulcet tones , his sorrowing heart At such soft tones had sooth'd itself to rest . Yes , sweeter far than Jesse's son's thy strains ; 26 The Poets of England who have died Young .
... deepest core his heaving breast , Heard but thy dulcet tones , his sorrowing heart At such soft tones had sooth'd itself to rest . Yes , sweeter far than Jesse's son's thy strains ; 26 The Poets of England who have died Young .
Página 28
... rest , my muse , but only rest to weep , A friend made dear by ev'ry sacred tie ; Unknown to me be comfort , peace , or sleep- Phillips is dead : - ' tis pleasure then to die . Few are the pleasures Chatterton e'er knew— Short were the ...
... rest , my muse , but only rest to weep , A friend made dear by ev'ry sacred tie ; Unknown to me be comfort , peace , or sleep- Phillips is dead : - ' tis pleasure then to die . Few are the pleasures Chatterton e'er knew— Short were the ...
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Términos y frases comunes
appointed beautiful Caius college Cambridge Catharine hall character Charles Chatterton Christ's college Christi Church Clare hall classical Corpus Christi college dark death degree dissenters divine earth Edward elected Emmanuel college eyes feel Fitzherbert genius gentlemen George Goldoni hath heart heaven Henry honour human imagination James Jesus college John John's college Keats king look Lord Bishop Magdalene college Master mathematics mind moon nature never o'er Pembroke Pembroke college Peter's college plane poem poet poetry Poland poor present Queens rectory Rosny scholar Shelley shew SIZARS smile society song soul spirit student sweet taste thee thing Thomas thou thought tion Trin Trinity college Trinity hall Tripos University vacant vicarage Vivian voice William young γὰρ δὲ ἐν καὶ μὲν τὰ τὸ τοῦ τῶν
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Página 377 - No war, or battle's sound Was heard the world around : The idle spear and shield were high up hung ; The hooked chariot stood Unstain'd with hostile blood; The trumpet spake not to the armed throng; And kings sat still with awful eye, As if they surely knew their sovran Lord was by.
Página 227 - ST. AGNES' EVE— Ah, bitter chill it was ! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold ; The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass, And silent was the flock in woolly fold...
Página 377 - The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Página 503 - The ample proposition, that hope makes In all designs begun on earth below, Fails in the promis'd largeness : checks and disasters Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ; As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain Tortive and errant6 from his course of growth. Nor, princes, is it matter new to us, That we come short of our suppose so far, That, after seven years...
Página 323 - With how sad steps, O Moon, thou climb'st the skies; How silently ; and with how wan a face ! What ! may it be, that even in heavenly place That busy Archer his sharp arrows tries...
Página 323 - I hear of poets' fury tell, But, God wot, wot not what they mean by it; And this I swear by blackest brook of hell, I am no pick-purse of another's wit. How falls it then, that with so smooth an ease My thoughts I speak; and what I speak doth flow In verse, and that my verse best wits doth please ? Guess we the cause ? What, is it this : Fie, no. Or so ? Much less.
Página 93 - Blind, old, and lonely, when his country's pride The priest, the slave, and the liberticide Trampled and mocked with many a loathed rite Of lust and blood; he went, unterrified, Into the gulf of death; but his clear Sprite Yet reigns o'er earth; the third among the sons of light.
Página 100 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart; — As I must on thine, Oh, beloved as thou art!
Página 100 - When the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot.
Página 90 - MANY a green isle needs must be In the deep wide sea of misery, Or the mariner, worn and wan, Never thus could voyage on Day and night, and night and day, Drifting on his dreary way, With the solid darkness black Closing round his vessel's track ; Whilst above the sunless sky, Big with clouds, hangs heavily...