Cosa dicono le persone - Scrivi una recensione
Nessuna recensione trovata nei soliti posti.
Altre edizioni - Visualizza tutto
æther athelwold awful beauty beneath bird blaze bliss bloom boughs bow'rs breast breath bright Britannia's brow chearful crown crown'd dame delight drest Dryads elfrida Ev'n ev'ry fairly fair fame Fancy flow flow'rs frae Freedom calls Freedom's glory glow grace green groves Hail hallow'd hand hardyknute head hear heart heav'n heav'nly ISIS king KING OF SCOTS knicht list'ning lov'd lyre maid maun mourn Muse Norse numbers nymph o'er pale patriot peace pensive Pictish pious plain pow'r prince proud Queen Quhair Quhen rage reign ROSE Rothsay sacred sage scene Scotland shade shine shyne sicht sield sierce sing sire sirst smile soft solemn song soul sound spread strain stream stryfe swain sweet sword tear tender thee thine thou thro throne tow'rs vale vermil virtue voice wand'ring wave winds wont zour
Pagina 65 - The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Pagina 68 - There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high, His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by.
Pagina 69 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou can'st read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Pagina 65 - Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, , The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.
Pagina 66 - The boast of heraldry, the pomp of pow'r, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th
Pagina 69 - Here rests his head upon the lap of earth A youth, to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth, And melancholy mark'd him for her own. Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere...
Pagina 62 - Lie slaughter'd on their native ground ; Thy hospitable roofs no more Invite the stranger to the door; In smoky ruins sunk they lie. The monuments of cruelty. The wretched owner sees afar His all become the prey of war ; Bethinks him of his babes and wife, Then smites his breast, and curses life.
Pagina 41 - While Spring shall pour his Show'rs, as oft he wont, And bathe thy breathing Tresses, meekest Eve! While Summer loves to sport, Beneath thy ling'ring light: While sallow Autumn fills thy Lap with Leaves, Or Winter yelling thro' the troublous Air, Affrights thy shrinking Train, And rudely rends thy Robes.