Englische Dichter. Eine Auswahl englischer Dichtungen mit deutscher Uebers. von O. L. H ..... r

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Georg Wigand, 1856 - 735页
 

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第590页 - Ye Mariners of England That guard our native seas! Whose flag has braved, a thousand years, The battle and the breeze! Your glorious standard launch again To match another foe: And sweep through the deep, While the stormy winds do blow; While the battle rages loud and long And the stormy winds do blow.
第192页 - And ever against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce In notes, with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out, With wanton heed, and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running; Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony: That Orpheus...
第474页 - THOU still unravished bride of quietness! Thou foster-child of silence and slow time ! Sylvan historian, who canst thus express A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme : What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape Of deities or mortals, or of both, In Tempe or the dales of Arcady ? What men or gods are these ? What maidens loth ? What mad pursuit ? What struggle to escape ? What pipes and timbrels ? What wild ecstasy...
第590页 - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak She quells the floods below, — As they roar on the shore, When the stormy tempests blow — When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. The meteor flag of England Shall yet terrific burn ; Till danger's troubled night depart, And the star of peace return.
第720页 - O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
第188页 - Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures Whilst the landscape round it measures ; Russet lawns, and fallows gray, Where the nibbling flocks do stray ; Mountains, on whose barren breast The labouring clouds do often rest ; Meadows trim with daisies pied, Shallow brooks, and rivers wide ; Towers and battlements it sees Bosom'd high in tufted trees, Where perhaps some Beauty lies, The Cynosure of neighbouring eyes.
第250页 - Soon as the evening shades prevail, The Moon takes up the wondrous tale; And nightly, to the listening Earth, Repeats the story of her birth : Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets, in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
第66页 - O ! mickle is the powerful grace that lies In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities : For nought so vile that on the earth doth live But to the earth some special good doth give...
第184页 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings ; There, under ebon shades and low-browed rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
第444页 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me ? O tell me I yet have a friend, Though a friend I am never to see.

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