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Lyra Heroica: A Book of Verse for Boys - Scholar's Choice Edition
William Ernest Henley
Sin vista previa disponible - 2015
arms battle blood blow born bowed brave breath bright captain close comes cried dark dead death deep died drum England English eyes face fair faith fall father fear fell fight fire flag follow fought give glory grave hand hath head hear heard heart heaven hill honour hope horse host hour hundred King land leave light live looked Lord loud morn mother never Niblungs night noble o'er once passed printed rest rock rose round Rustum sail shield ship shore shout side Sohrab song sound spear stand stood strong sweet sword tears tell thee thou thought thousand Till true turned verse voice wall waves wind written
Página 150 - THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
Página 43 - War, he sung, is toil and trouble; Honour, but an empty bubble; Never ending, still beginning, Fighting still, and still destroying; If the world be worth thy winning, Think, O think it worth enjoying! Lovely Thais sits beside thee, Take the good the gods provide thee!
Página 178 - Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free 1 The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared — This was their welcome home...
Página 32 - GOING TO THE WARS Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind, That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As thou too shalt adore; I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more.
Página 20 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives, creep to death.
Página 33 - The gods that wanton in the air, Know no such liberty. When flowing cups run swiftly round With no allaying Thames, Our careless heads with roses bound, Our hearts with loyal flames ; When thirsty grief in wine we steep, When healths and draughts go free, Fishes that tipple in the deep, Know no such liberty.
Página 351 - The Author continued for about three hours in a profound sleep, at least of the external senses, during which time he has the most vivid confidence that he could not have composed less than from two to three hundred lines; if that indeed can be called composition in which all the images rose up before him as things, with a parallel production of the correspondent expressions, without any sensation or consciousness of effort.
Página 84 - The verse adorn again Fierce War, and faithful Love, And Truth severe, by fairy Fiction drest. In buskin'd measures move Pale Grief, and pleasing Pain, With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast. A voice as of the cherub-choir Gales from blooming Eden bear, And distant warblings lessen on my ear That lost in long futurity expire.
Página 176 - And but the booming shots replied, And fast the flames rolled on. Upon his brow he felt their breath, And in his waving hair, And looked from that lone post of death, In still yet brave despair ; And shouted but once more aloud, ' My father ! must I stay ?' While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud, The wreathing fires made way.