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Aeneid Aeolian Aeschylus anapaest ancient ballad Bard beautiful bonnie Book Bradshaw braes Burns called charm Collins Comus Cowper CXLV dear death Dryden's Eclogue eighteenth century Elegy English English poetry epithet eyes F. T. Palgrave Faerie Queene fair favourite flowers Georgics Golden Treasury Gray Gray's Greek Hales heart honour Horace Horace's Il Penseroso Jean John Anderson King L'Allegro Lady Latin leal lines living lourche Lucretius LXXXIX Lycidas Lycidas G. T. lyre lyric Mary melancholy Metre Milton mind Muse Nativity Ode night o'er Paradise Lost Penseroso G. T. phrase Pindar poem poetic poetry poets Pope Queen reader rhyme Scottish sense shade Shakespeare simplicity sleep song Sonnet Sophocles sorrow soul sound Spenser stanza stream sweet tabby tear Tennyson thee thou thought Tovey Twas verb verse Virgil warble wind wings word Wordsworth written Yarrow وو
Страница 48 - John Anderson my jo. John Anderson my jo, John, We clamb the hill thegither ; And mony a canty day, John, We've had wi' ane anither : Now we maun totter down, John, But hand in hand we'll go, And sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson my jo.
Страница 55 - How fleet is a glance of the mind ! Compared with the speed of its flight, The tempest itself lags behind, And the swift-winged arrows of light. When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there ; But alas ! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair.
Страница 29 - Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round ; Loose were her tresses seen, her zone unbound : And he, amidst his frolic play, As if he would the charming air repay, Shook thousand odours from his dewy wings.
Страница 98 - YE banks and braes o' bonnie Doon, How can ye bloom sae fresh and fair; How can ye chant, ye little birds, And I sae weary, fu' o
Страница 16 - It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock ; She sprang no fatal leak, She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Страница 66 - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend.
Страница 42 - As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I, And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry. Till a" the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi
Страница 33 - WEE, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie, O, what a panic's in thy breastie ! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi...
Страница 50 - Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint To sweeten liberty: Some bold adventurers disdain The limits of their little reign And unknown regions dare descry: Still as they run they look behind, They hear a voice in every wind, And snatch a fearful joy.