The trees of old England

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Pitman, 1868 - 96 páginas
 

Índice

I
1
II
4
III
7
IV
19
V
29
VI
37
VII
45
VIII
55
IX
64
X
69
XI
77
XII
85
XIII
91
XIV
92

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Página 5 - They shall not build, and another inhabit: they shall not plant, and another eat: for as the days of a tree are the days of my people, and mine elect shall long enjoy the work of their hands.
Página 17 - The monarch oak, the patriarch of the trees, Shoots rising up, and spreads by slow degrees ; Three centuries he grows, and three he stays, Supreme in state, and in three more decays...
Página 60 - There with fantastic garlands did she come Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples That liberal shepherds give a grosser name, But our cold maids do dead men's fingers call them. There, on the pendent boughs her coronet weeds Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook.
Página 59 - In such a night Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew, And saw the lion's shadow ere himself, And ran dismay'd away. LOR. In such a night Stood Dido with a willow in her hand Upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love To come again to Carthage.
Página 64 - Midst skulls and coffins, epitaphs and worms; Where light-heel'd ghosts, and visionary shades, Beneath the wan cold Moon (as fame reports) Embodied, thick, perform their mystic rounds. No other merriment, dull tree, is thine.
Página 60 - Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke, When down her weedy trophies and herself Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide, And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up; Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes, As one incapable of her own distress...
Página 63 - From Britain's painted sons I came, And basket is my barbarous name ; Yet now I am so modish grown, That Rome would claim me for her own.
Página 92 - The Mountain -ash No eye can overlook, when 'mid a grove Of yet unfaded trees she lifts her head Decked with autumnal berries, that outshine Spring's richest blossoms...
Página 53 - Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, The tufted crow-toe and pale jessamine, The white pink, and the pansy freaked with jet, The glowing violet, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, And every flower that sad embroidery wears : Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed, And daffodillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies.
Página 59 - Quab's populea rnaerens philomela sub umbra Amissos queritur fetus, quos durus arator Observans nido implumes detraxit ; at ilia Flet noctem, ramoque sedens miserabile carmen Integrat, et maestis late loca questibus implet.

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