The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles: With Memoir, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes by the Rev. George Gilfillan, Band 1

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James Nichol, 1855
 

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Seite 17 - Rock, and at times scatter their tresses sear. If in such shades, beneath their murmuring, Thou late hast pass'd the happier hours of spring, With sadness thou wilt mark the fading year ; Chiefly if one, with whom such sweets at morn Or evening, thou hast shared, far off shall stray.
Seite 13 - How sweet the tuneful bells responsive peal ! As when, at opening morn, the fragrant breeze Breathes on the trembling sense of wan disease, So piercing to my heart their force I feel ! And hark ! with lessening cadence now they fall, And now along the white and level tide They fling their melancholy music wide, Bidding me many a tender thought recall Of...
Seite 19 - I Never hear the sound of thy glad bells, OXFORD ! and chime harmonious, but I say, (Sighing to think how time has worn away) " Some spirit speaks in the sweet tone that swells, " Heard after years of absence, from the vale
Seite 12 - How many a lonely wanderer has stood! And, whilst the lifted murmur met his ear, And o'er the distant billows the still eve Sailed slow, has thought of all his heart must leave Tomorrow; of the friends he loved most dear; Of social scenes, from which he wept to part!
Seite 14 - The faint pang stealest unperceived away ; On thee I rest my only hope at last, And think, when thou hast dried the bitter tear That flows in vain o'er all my soul held dear, 1 may look back on every sorrow past, And meet life's peaceful evening with a smile...
Seite 21 - Fallen pile ! I ask not what has been thy fate, But when the weak winds, wafted from the main, Through each lone arch, like spirits that complain, Come hollow to my ear, I meditate On this world's passing pageant...
Seite 51 - ... told ; And still, as every weary day goes by, A knot recording on my line I tie ; But never more, emerging from the main, I see the stranger's bark approach again. Has the fell storm...
Seite 16 - AH! from mine eyes the tears unbidden start, As thee, my country, and the long-lost sight Of thy own cliffs, that lift their summits white Above the wave, once more my beating heart With eager hope and filial transport hails ! Scenes of my youth, reviving gales ye bring, As when erewhile the tuneful morn of spring Joyous awoke amidst your blooming vales, And fill'd with fragrance every painted plain: Fled are those hours, and all the joys they gave ! Yet still I gaze, and count each rising wave That...
Seite 302 - Tiptoe, with glistening eye and outspread hands ; With airy look, and form and footsteps light, And glossy locks, and features berry-bright, And eye like the young eaglet's, to the ray Of noon, unblenching, as he sails away ; A brede of sea-shells on his bosom strung, A small...
Seite 17 - Delightful bathed in slow ascending dews ; Or marks the clouds that o'er the mountain's head, In varying forms, fantastic wander white ; Or turns his ear to every random song Heard the green river's winding marge along, The whilst each sense is...

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