Harrovian: a Collection of Poems, Essays & TranslationsHurst, Chance, 1828 - 232 pages |
Other editions - View all
The Harrovian: A Collection of Poems, Essays and Translations (Classic Reprint) Robert Aris Willmott No preview available - 2017 |
The Harrovian: A Collection of Poems, Essays and Translations (Classic Reprint) Robert Aris Willmott No preview available - 2017 |
Harrovian: A Collection of Poems, Essays & Translations Robert Aris Willmott No preview available - 2019 |
Common terms and phrases
altar amid Aristophanes arms beauty bird breathing bright Briton charming cheek Chloe CHORUS citterns clouds cottage Dæmon Daphnis Daphnis and Chloe dark darkened delightful dream Druid dwelling earth Editor EDWARD SEYMOUR elegant Epicedium Erinna Eschylus Euripides face farewell feelings fire flowers footsteps fountains friends garden gladness gleam glory golden Greek hallowed hand harp Harrovian Harrow hath heart heaven holy imagination Joanna Baillie Lady Landon laughing leaves Leigh Hunt light LIONEL MONTMORENCY Livy look loveliness lute melody Melpomene Miss Landon's morning murmurs nature nest never o'er Parr passion peace poem poet poetry of thought praise prose Quintilian readers rest Romans in Britain rose round shadow shrine simile sing sleep slumber smile song Sophocles sorrow spirit stanza style summer sun-bird sweet tears thee thou tree Troubadour village vineyard voice wandering waves whisper wind wings words youth
Popular passages
Page 122 - And dear to me the winged hour, Spent in thy hallow'd courts, O Lord ! To feel devotion's soothing power, And catch the manna of thy word. And dear to me the loud Amen...
Page 166 - Selecting from its falling sisters, chase, Far from its native grove, to lifeless wastes, And leave it there alone, to be forgotten Eternally, God passed in mercy by, — His praise be ever new ! — and on him breathed, And bade him live, and put into his hands A holy harp, into his lips a song, That rolled its numbers...
Page 122 - Lord ! To feel devotion's soothing power, And catch the manna of thy word. And dear to me the loud Amen, Which echoes through the blest abode, Which swells and sinks, and swells again, Dies on the walls, but lives to God.
Page 206 - My boyish days are nearly gone, My breast is not unsullied now ; And worldly cares and woes will soon Cut their deep furrows on my brow — And life will take a darker hue From ills my Brother never knew. And I have made me bosom friends, And loved and link'd my heart with others ; But who with mine his spirit blends, As mine was blended with my brother's...
Page 123 - Has bound me in its six days' chain, This bursts them, like the strong man's bands, And lets my spirit loose again. Then dear to me the Sabbath morn ; The village bells, the shepherd's voice; These oft have found my heart forlorn, And always bid that heart rejoice. Go, man of pleasure, strike thy lyre, Of broken Sabbaths sing the charms ; Ours be the prophet's car of fire, That bears us to a Father's arms.
Page 166 - God passed in mercy by, His praise be ever new ! and on him breathed ; And bade him live ; and put into his hands A holy harp, into his lips a, song, That rolled its numbers down the tide of Time. Ambitious now but little to be praised Of men alone ; ambitious most to be Approved of God, the Judge of all ; and have His name recorded in the book of life.
Page 118 - Sweet flower ! for by that name at last, When all my reveries are past, I call thee, and to that cleave fast. Sweet silent creature ! That breath'st with me in sun and air. Do thou, as thou art wont, repair My heart with gladness, and a share Of thy meek nature ! TO THE SAME FLOWER.
Page 205 - Those tones would reach thee, though the worm, My brother, makes thy heart his bed ; That Sire, who thy existence gave, Now stands beside thy lowly grave. It is not long since thou wert wont Within these sacred walls to kneel ; This altar, that baptismal font, These stones which now thy dust conceal, The sweet tones of the...
Page 216 - Such an emotion as cannot utter itself in language — though by language it indicate its presence — but preserves us in a devout and adoring frame, while the Lord is uttering his voice. Go, visit a desolate widow with consolation and help and fatherhood of her orphan children — do it again and again — • and your presence, the sound of your approaching footstep, the soft utterance of your voice, the very mention of your name...
Page 161 - Some who had presaged kindly of our youth ; Feel we not proud their prophecy was sooth ? But how felt Rosalie ? — The very air Seemed as it brought reproach ! there was no eye To look delighted, welcome none was there ! She felt as feels an outcast wandering by Where every door is closed ! She looked around ! — She heard some voices