Israel In Egypt. Book Fourth. (Edwin Atherstone Poems)
But, when they were alone,--and now no more By that subduing presence overawed,-- With free tongue giving loose to wrath ...
But, when they were alone,--and now no more By that subduing presence overawed,-- With free tongue giving loose to wrath ...
ADDRESSED TO THE CRITICAL REVIEWERS. Tristitiam et Metus.--HORACE.Laughs not the heart when giants, big with pride,Assume the pompous port, the ...
On the next morrow, early, rose the king; And sat upon his throne: at his right hand, The heroic queen: ...
MANY a graven gem, besetWith gold, is worn as an amuletIn the far-off climes of the East,—a charmTo preserve the ...
JESSE AND COLIN.A Vicar died and left his Daughter poor -It hurt her not, she was not rich before:Her humble ...
Sing muse! of Saville and the direful dayWhen beauty fell, to ruthless hands a prey;And life a sacrifice to savage ...
THE CONFIDANT.Anna was young and lovely--in her eyeThe glance of beauty, in her cheek the dye:Her shape was slender, and ...
In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,The bosom of his Father, and assumedA servant's form, though he had reigned a king,In ...
"'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun,If that hypothesis of theirs be sound'Said Ida; 'let us down and ...
All night funereal darkness pall'd the earth; The worn--out soldiers slumbered heavily: The anxious chiefs themselves, in grave--like sleep, Till ...
Act III.SCENE I. The studio of the Spagnoletto. RIBERA before his canvas. LUCA in attendance.RIBERA (laying aside his brush).So! I ...
Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night!Of darkness visible so much be ...
THE SPAGNOLETTO.DRAMATIS PERSONAE.DON JOHN of AUSTRIA.JOSEF RIBERA, the Spagnoletto.LORENZO, noble young Italian artist, pupil of Ribera.DON TOMMASO MANZANO.LUCA, servant to ...
Grace said in form, which sceptics must agree,When they are told that grace was said by me;The servants gone to ...
Like a strong youth who, from refreshing sleep After hard travel, rises light of heart, Active of limb, flushed with ...
THE CONVERT.Some to our Hero have a hero's nameDenied, because no father's he could claim;Nor could his mother with precision ...
THE BREWING OF BEER.Now we sing the wondrous legends,Songs of wedding-feasts and dances,Sing the melodies of wedlock,Sing the songs of ...
These are monarchs none respect,Heroes, yet an humbled crew,Nobles, whom the crowd correct,Wealthy men, whom duns pursue;Beauties shrinking from the ...
Paraphrased From David's Psalms. Psalm XIX.THE arched heavens ere since the birth of timeInstruct the earth, in characters sublime, ...
YOU say you envy in your calm retreatOur social Meetings;--'tis with joy we meet.In these our parties you are pleased ...
'Dieu dont l'arc est d'argent, dieu de Claros, ?coute; O Sminth?e-Apollon, je p?rirai sans doute, Si tu ne sers de ...
ADVICE; OR THE 'SQUIRE AND THE PRIEST.A wealthy Lord of far-extended landHad all that pleased him placed at his command;Widow'd ...
High on a gorgeous seat, that far out-shoneHenley's gilt tub, or Flecknoe's Irish throne,Or that where on her Curlls the ...
Courage was cast about her like a dressOf solemn comeliness,A gathered mind and an untroubled faceDid give her dangers grace. ...
Two angels, as I grew up glad and gay From golden infancy,Were with me, walking all along the way On ...
FRAGMENT I.--PROLOGUE. Dans nos vastes cit?s, par le sort partag?s, Sous deux injustes lois les hommes sont rang?s: Les uns, ...
In the lusty, fresshe moneth of mayWhen the byrdes reioyse, euery glad speryteWith theyr venerien voyces, i the dawne of ...
Mr. Simkin B---n---r---d to Lady B---n---r---d, at --- Hall, North. A Description of the Ball, with an Episode on Beau ...
Like a flood river whirled at rocky banks,An army issues out of wilderness,With battle plucking round its ragged flanks;Obstruction in ...
Out of the gray northwest, where many a day gone by Ye tugged and howled in your tempestuous grot, And evermore the huge frost giants lie, Your wizard guards in vigilance unforgot, Out of the gray northwest, for now the bonds are riven, On wide white wings your thongless flight is driven, That lulls but resteth not. And all the gray day long, and all the dense wild night, Ye wheel and hurry with the sheeted snow, By cedared waste and many a pine-dark height, Across white rivers frozen fast below; Over the lonely forests, where the flowers yet sleeping Turn in their narrow beds with dreams of weeping In some remembered woe; Across the unfenced wide marsh levels, where the dry Brown ferns sigh out, and last year's sedges scold In some drear language, rustling haggardly Their thin dead leaves and dusky hoods of gold; Across gray beechwoods where the pallid leaves unfalling In the blind gusts like homeless ghosts are calling With voices cracked and old; Across the solitary clearings, where the low Fierce gusts howl through the blinded woods, and round The buried shanties all day long the snow Sifts and piles up in many a spectral mound; Across lone villages in eerie wildernesses Whose hidden life no living shape confesses Nor any human sound; Across the serried masses of dim cities, blown Full of the snow that ever shifts and swells, While far above them all their towers of stone Stand and beat back your fierce and tyrannous spells, And hour by hour send out, like voices torn and broken Of battling giants that have grandly spoken, The veering sound of bells; So day and night, O Wind, with hiss and moan you fleet, Where once long gone on many a green-leafed day Your gentler brethren wandered with light feet And sang, with voices soft and sweet as they, The same blind thought that you with wilder might are speaking, Seeking the same strange thing that you are seeking In this your stormier way. O Wind, wild-voicèd brother, in your northern cave, My spirit also being so beset With pride and pain, I heard you beat and rave, Grinding your chains with furious howl and fret, Knowing full well that all earth's moving things inherit The same chained might and madness of the spirit, That none may quite forget. You in your cave of snows, we in our narrow girth Of need and sense, for ever chafe and pine; Only in moods of some demonic birth Our souls take fire, our flashing wings untwine; Even like you, mad Wind, above our broken prison, With streaming hair and maddened eyes uprisen, We dream ourselves divine; Mad moods that come and go in some mysterious way, That flash and fall, none knoweth how or why, O Wind, our brother, they are yours today, The stormy joy, the sweeping mastery; Deep in our narrow cells, we hear you, we awaken, With hands afret and bosoms strangely shaken, We answer to your cry. I most that love you, Wind, when you are fierce and free, In these dull fetters cannot long remain; Lo, I will rise and break my thongs and flee Forth to your drift and beating, till my brain Even for an hour grow wild in your divine embraces, And then creep back into mine earthly traces, And bind me with my chain. Nay, Wind, I hear you, desperate brother, in your might Whistle and howl; I shall not tarry long, And though the day be blind and fierce, the night Be dense and wild, I still am glad and strong To meet you face to face; through all your gust and drifting With brow held high, my joyous hands uplifting, I cry you song for song.(Archibald Lampman)
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