The Words of the Most Favourite Pieces: Performed at the Glee Club, the Catch Club, and Other Public SocietiesRichard Clark Philanthropic Society, 1814 - 435 pages |
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The Words of the Most Favourite Pieces: Performed at the Glee Club, the ... Richard Clark Affichage du livre entier - 1814 |
The Words of the Most Favourite Pieces: Performed at the Glee Club, the ... Richard Clark Affichage du livre entier - 1814 |
The Words of the Most Favourite Pieces: Performed at the Glee Club, the ... Richard Clark Aucun aperçu disponible - 2017 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
Anacreon Bacchus beauty Ben Jonson birds blest breast breath CALLCOTT CATCH charms cheerful COOKE dance dear delight doth drink ev'ry eyes Five Voices flow'rs Four Voices gentle GLEE for Five GLEE for Four GLEE for Three grace grove happy Hark harmony haste heart heav'n Hecate HORSLEY John King live faire Oriana Long live faire lov'd love's MADRIGAL for Five MADRIGAL for Four MADRIGAL for Six maid merry MICHAEL ESTE mirth morn night nimphs nymphs of Diana o'er peace pleasure pow'r Prize Glees queen R. B. Sheridan R. J. S. STEVENS rose rosy round sang the shepherds Shakspeare shepherds and nymphs sigh sing Six Voices sleep smile soft song sorrow soul sound spring swain sweet sweetly tear thee thine THOMAS BATESON THOMAS MORLEY thou Three Voices thro vale wanton WEBBE wind wine
Fréquemment cités
Page 203 - Orpheus with his lute made trees, And the mountain tops that freeze, Bow themselves when he did sing ; To his music plants and flowers Ever sprung, as sun and showers There had made a lasting spring. Every thing that heard him play, Even the billows of the sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In sweet music is such art, Killing care and grief of heart Fall asleep, or hearing die.
Page 306 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
Page 256 - Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride. Do but look on her eyes, they do light All that Love's world compriseth ! Do but look on her hair, it is bright As Love's star when it riseth...
Page 253 - Sigh, no more, ladies, sigh no more, Men were deceivers ever ; One foot in sea, and one on shore ; To one thing constant never : Then sigh not so, But let them go, And be you blithe and bonny ; Converting all your sounds of woe Into Hey nonny, nonny.
Page 110 - How sleep the Brave who sink to rest By all their country's wishes blest! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod.
Page 211 - O thou that rollest above, round as the shield of my fathers ! Whence are thy beams, O sun ! thy everlasting light ! Thou comest forth in thy awful beauty ; the stars hide themselves in the sky ; the moon, cold and pale, sinks in the western wave ; but thou thyself movest aloive.
Page 274 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 71 - Drink to me, only, with thine eyes, And I will pledge with mine ; Or leave a kiss but in the cup, And I'll not look for wine. The thirst that from the soul doth rise, Doth ask a drink divine : But might I of Jove's nectar sup, I would not change for thine.
Page 220 - Eas'd of her load, subjection grows more light, And poverty looks cheerful in thy sight: Thou mak'st the gloomy face of nature gay, Giv'st beauty to the sun, and pleasure to the day.
Page 376 - Oh ! young Lochinvar is come out of the west, Through all the wide Border his steed was the best ; And save his good broadsword he weapons had none, He rode all unarmed and he rode all alone. So faithful in love and so dauntless in war, There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.