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arms beauty begin beneath bosom breast brow called cloud cold comes Comp continued dactyl dear death deep earth English EXERCISE expressed eyes fair falls feet flowers follow forest gifts give given grave Greek green ground half hand heart heaven hexameter HINTS hold honour hour land late Latin leaves light live look Lord mark means metre mind morning mountain mourn naturally night nouns once ōris pentameter poet praise present remain rest RETRANSLATION rising rule seen sense shade short sometimes song soon soul sound stand stars storm stream subj summer sweet syllable tears thee things third thou turn verb verse Virg voice vowel waters waves weep winds word youth
第156页 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
第176页 - Abide with me from morn till eve, for without thee I cannot live; abide with me when night is nigh, for without thee I dare not die.
第179页 - Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; Shine through the gloom, and point me to the skies: Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me!
第171页 - The calm retreat, the silent shade, With prayer and praise agree ; And seem by thy sweet bounty made For those who follow thee.
第124页 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying.
第171页 - What thanks I owe thee, and what love, A boundless, endless store, Shall echo through the realms above, When time shall be no more.
第158页 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld ; Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
第167页 - I have naught that is fair ?" saith he ; "Have naught but the bearded grain? Though the breath of these flowers is sweet to me I will give them all back again." He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves.
第140页 - CALL it not vain ¡—they do not err, Who say, that when the Poet dies, Mute Nature mourns her worshipper, And celebrates his obsequies : Who say, tall cliff, and cavern lone, For the departed Bard make moan ; That mountains weep in crystal rill ; That flowers in tears of balm distil ; Through his loved groves that breezes sigh, And oaks, in deeper groan, reply; And rivers teach their rushing wave To murmur dirges round his grave.