Sabrinae corolla in hortulis regiae scholae Salopiensis contextuerunt tres viri floribus legendis ... |
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16 ÆäÀÌÁö
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, And there never was moonlight so sweet
as this. By the fair and brave, who blushing unite, Like the sun and wave when
they meet at night! By the tear that shews when passion is nigh, As the rain-drop
...
Thy holiest time is the moonlight hour, And there never was moonlight so sweet
as this. By the fair and brave, who blushing unite, Like the sun and wave when
they meet at night! By the tear that shews when passion is nigh, As the rain-drop
...
24 ÆäÀÌÁö
An hour is past, And he was holding dalliance with the sum, All bared his crimson
pride : now closed, downcast, His blossoms seek their favourite skies to shun.
Young Edwin came, the warning change beheld, Then hurried to his hinds ; and
...
An hour is past, And he was holding dalliance with the sum, All bared his crimson
pride : now closed, downcast, His blossoms seek their favourite skies to shun.
Young Edwin came, the warning change beheld, Then hurried to his hinds ; and
...
28 ÆäÀÌÁö
... myjo ; And owsen frae the furrow'd field Return sae dowf and weary, O! Down
by the burn, where scented birks Wi' dew are hangin' clear, myjo, I'll meet thee on
the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O ! In mirkest glen, at midnight hour I'd rove and ...
... myjo ; And owsen frae the furrow'd field Return sae dowf and weary, O! Down
by the burn, where scented birks Wi' dew are hangin' clear, myjo, I'll meet thee on
the lea-rig, My ain kind dearie, O ! In mirkest glen, at midnight hour I'd rove and ...
174 ÆäÀÌÁö
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the
hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word ; And gentle winds
and waters near Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly
...
It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard; It is the
hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word ; And gentle winds
and waters near Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly
...
258 ÆäÀÌÁö
Unthinking, idle, wild, and young, Ilaughed and danced, and talked and sung ;
And fond of health, of freedom vain, Dreamed not of sorrow, care, or pain ;
Concluding in those hours of glee That all the world was made for me. But when
the hour ...
Unthinking, idle, wild, and young, Ilaughed and danced, and talked and sung ;
And fond of health, of freedom vain, Dreamed not of sorrow, care, or pain ;
Concluding in those hours of glee That all the world was made for me. But when
the hour ...
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adhuc amor aqvas auras bright BYRON caeli caelum caput Coll cura dear death decus face fair fall flowers gaudia Gulielmus Haec hand hath heart heaven Hinc honor hope hour illa inter Ioann ipse laeta Land leaves light live luce Magd mihi mile Milton modo Mors neqve never night nobis nunc o'er omnes omnia patriae procul qvae qvam qvid qvidqvid Qvod qvom rest rosa rose Schol semper Shakspeare sine sole solis Song soul Spiritus sunt sweet tamen tellus terra thee thine things thou tibi Trin umbra unda vale vita wave wind xaì yàp ¥óὸ
Àαâ Àο뱸
34 ÆäÀÌÁö - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
196 ÆäÀÌÁö - Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun When first on this delightful land he spreads His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, Glist'ring with dew; fragrant the fertile earth After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on Of grateful evening mild ; then silent night With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, And these the gems of heaven, her starry train...
252 ÆäÀÌÁö - Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold — Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand — Is it there, sweet mother, that better land ? " " Not there, not there, my child...
156 ÆäÀÌÁö - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry. Few, few shall part where many meet ! The snow shall be their winding-sheet ; And every turf beneath their feet Shall be a soldier's sepulchre.
24 ÆäÀÌÁö - 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 you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
114 ÆäÀÌÁö - Therefore doth heaven divide The state of man in divers functions, Setting endeavour in continual motion ; To which is fixed, as an aim or butt, Obedience : for so work the honey-bees, Creatures that by a rule in nature teach The act of order to a peopled kingdom.
238 ÆäÀÌÁö - Past, But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast, And the days are dark and dreary. Be still, sad heart ! and cease repining ; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining ; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall, Some days must be dark and dreary.
136 ÆäÀÌÁö - When the oldest cask is opened, And the largest lamp is lit; When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the kid turns on the spit; When young and old in circle Around the firebrands close; When the girls are weaving baskets, And the lads are shaping bows...
238 ÆäÀÌÁö - THE day is cold, and dark, and dreary ; It rains, and the wind is never weary ; The vine still clings to the mouldering wall, But at every gust the dead leaves fall, And the day is dark and dreary.
268 ÆäÀÌÁö - Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run Perpetual circle, multiform; and mix And nourish all things ; let your ceaseless change Vary to our great Maker still new praise. Ye Mists and Exhalations that now rise From hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey, Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, In honour to the world's great Author rise...