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bank banner beauty beneath better bird bless blue born bower brave breath bright brow clouds cold dark dear death dreams earth face faded fame feelings field flowers friends gaze give gone grace grave green hair half Hall hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour known lady land learned leaves life's light linger listened live look maiden meet memory mind morn never night o'er once passed poet's pride proud pure rose round scene seen shade sing sleep smile snow song speeches spell spirit spring star stood summer sweet tears tell thee There's thine thing thou thought thousand tree true twas voice wandering warm waters wave wild winds wings young
第17页 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power : In dreams, through camp and court he bore The trophies of a conqueror...
第19页 - They fought like brave men, long and well; They piled that ground with Moslem slain; They conquered; but Bozzaris fell, Bleeding at every vein. His few surviving comrades saw His smile when rang their proud hurrah, And the red field was won, Then saw in death his eyelids close, Calmly as to a night's repose— Like flowers at set of sun.
第40页 - GREEN be the turf above thee. Friend of my better days ! None knew thee but to love thee, Nor named thee but to praise.
第18页 - Suliote band, True as the steel of their tried blades, Heroes in heart and hand. There had the Persian's...
第153页 - twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music I never forget, But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think — is the nightingale singing there yet ? Are the roses still bright by the calm BENDEMEER?
第96页 - They love their land, because it is their own, And scorn to give aught other reason why ; Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, And think it kindness to his majesty; A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none.
第153页 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, , An essence that breathes of it many a year ; Thus bright to my soul, as 'twas then to my eyes, Is that bower on the banks of the calm Bendemeer...
第31页 - Strong sense, deep feeling, passions strong, A hate of tyrant and of knave, A love of right, a scorn of wrong, Of coward, and of slave ; • A kind, true heart, a spirit high, . , That could not fear, and would not bow, Were written in his manly eye, And on his manly brow.
第27页 - Few nobler ones than Burns are there ; And few have won a greener wreath Than that which binds his hair. His is that language of the heart, In which the answering heart would speak, Thought, word, that bids the warm tear start, Or the smile light the cheek ; And his that music, to whose tone The common pulse of man keeps time, In cot or castle's mirth or moan, In cold or sunny clime.
第94页 - Tis a rough land of earth, and stone, and tree, Where breathes no castled lord or cabined slave ; Where thoughts, and tongues, and hands are bold and free, And friends will find a welcome, foes a grave; And where none kneel, save when to Heaven they pray, Nor even then, unless in their own way. II. Theirs is a pure republic, wild, yet strong, A