Hebrew Melodies |
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5 ÆäÀÌÁö
It softened men of iron mould, It gave them virtues not their own ; No ear so dull,
no soul so cold, That felt not, fired not to the tone, Till David's Lyre grew mightier
than his throne ! II. It told the triumphs of our King, It wafted HEBREW MELODIES.
It softened men of iron mould, It gave them virtues not their own ; No ear so dull,
no soul so cold, That felt not, fired not to the tone, Till David's Lyre grew mightier
than his throne ! II. It told the triumphs of our King, It wafted HEBREW MELODIES.
32 ÆäÀÌÁö
Though slight was that grasp so mortal cold, He could not loose him from its hold
; 55 5 But never did clasp of one so dear Strike on the pulse with such feeling of
fear, As those thin fingers, long and white, Froze through his blood by their touch
...
Though slight was that grasp so mortal cold, He could not loose him from its hold
; 55 5 But never did clasp of one so dear Strike on the pulse with such feeling of
fear, As those thin fingers, long and white, Froze through his blood by their touch
...
10 ÆäÀÌÁö
These wasted not his heart or limb; My brother's soul was of that mould 140
Which in a palace had grown cold, Had his free breathing been denied The
range of the steep mountain's side ; But why delay the truth ? — he died. I saw,
and could ...
These wasted not his heart or limb; My brother's soul was of that mould 140
Which in a palace had grown cold, Had his free breathing been denied The
range of the steep mountain's side ; But why delay the truth ? — he died. I saw,
and could ...
26 ÆäÀÌÁö
But fast we fled, away, away — " And I could neither sigh nor pray ; " And my cold
sweat-drops fell like rain " Upon the courser's bristling mane ; " But, snorting still
with rage and fear, " He flew upon his far career : " At times I almost thought, ...
But fast we fled, away, away — " And I could neither sigh nor pray ; " And my cold
sweat-drops fell like rain " Upon the courser's bristling mane ; " But, snorting still
with rage and fear, " He flew upon his far career : " At times I almost thought, ...
51 ÆäÀÌÁö
The sick man's lightning half an hour ere death, When Faintness, the last mortal
birth of Pain, And apathy of limb, the dull beginning Of the cold staggering race
which Death is winning, 40 Steals vein by vein and pulse by pulse away ; Yet so
...
The sick man's lightning half an hour ere death, When Faintness, the last mortal
birth of Pain, And apathy of limb, the dull beginning Of the cold staggering race
which Death is winning, 40 Steals vein by vein and pulse by pulse away ; Yet so
...
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appeared beautiful beneath blood bound breast breath bright brow close cloud cold dark dead death deep died doom dream earth eyes face fall fate father fear feel fell felt flow follow gave gazed glance gone grave grew half hand hath head heard heart heaven heavy hill hope hour human knew leaves less light limbs living look meet mind moment never night Note o'er once pain passed past rest rose round scarce seemed seen shore side sigh sight silent sleep smiled soul sound spirit star steed stone stood strength sweet tears thee thine things thou thought thousand tree turn Twas voice wall wandering waters waves weep wild winds youth
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4 ÆäÀÌÁö - To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
46 ÆäÀÌÁö - The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
4 ÆäÀÌÁö - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
47 ÆäÀÌÁö - Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen; Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still...
49 ÆäÀÌÁö - Though thy slumber may be deep, Yet thy spirit shall not sleep, There are shades which will not vanish, There are thoughts thou canst not banish...
14 ÆäÀÌÁö - Was as a mockery of the tomb, Whose tints as gently sunk away As a departing rainbow's ray ; An eye of most transparent light, That almost made the dungeon bright, And not a word of murmur, not A groan o'er his untimely lot, — A little talk of better days, A little hope my own...
52 ÆäÀÌÁö - TITAN ! to whose immortal eyes The sufferings of mortality, Seen in their sad reality, Were not as things that gods despise ; What was thy pity's recompense ? A silent suffering, and intense ; The rock, the vulture, and the chain, All that the proud can feel of pain...
38 ÆäÀÌÁö - The dread of vanish'd shadows. Are they so ? Is not the past all shadow ! What are they ' Creations of the mind ? The mind can make Substance, and people planets of its own With beings brighter than have been, — and give A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh.
37 ÆäÀÌÁö - A thousand horse, and none to ride ! With flowing tail, and flying mane, Wide nostrils never...
40 ÆäÀÌÁö - Which colour'd all his objects:— he had ceased To live within himself; she was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all: upon a tone, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow, And his cheek change tempestuously— his heart Unknowing of its cause of agony. But she in these fond feelings had no share: Her sighs were not for him; to her he was Even as a brother— but no more...