Lyra Historica: Poems of British History, A.D. 61-1910, 第 2 部Clarendon Press, 1911 |
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... Till , from the quivers of the sky , The gorgeous star - flight of the East Flamed , and the bow of darkness bent O'er Julian dying in his tent . 100 105 ΙΙΟ 115 120 Was it the wind befooling me With ancient echoes , as I lay ? Was it ...
... Till , from the quivers of the sky , The gorgeous star - flight of the East Flamed , and the bow of darkness bent O'er Julian dying in his tent . 100 105 ΙΙΟ 115 120 Was it the wind befooling me With ancient echoes , as I lay ? Was it ...
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... Till she flew as the spirit flies from the dead : As white as a lily glimmered she Like a ship's fair ghost upon the sea . 30 And the Prince cried , ' Friends , ' tis the hour to sing ! Is a songbird's course so swift on the wing ...
... Till she flew as the spirit flies from the dead : As white as a lily glimmered she Like a ship's fair ghost upon the sea . 30 And the Prince cried , ' Friends , ' tis the hour to sing ! Is a songbird's course so swift on the wing ...
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... till the hour he died . When he should be King , he oft would vow , He'd yoke the peasant to his own plough . O'er him the ships score their furrows now . God only knows where his soul did wake , But I saw him die for his sister's sake ...
... till the hour he died . When he should be King , he oft would vow , He'd yoke the peasant to his own plough . O'er him the ships score their furrows now . God only knows where his soul did wake , But I saw him die for his sister's sake ...
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... Till at length the lays they chanted Reached the chamber terror - haunted , Where the monk , with accents holy , Whispered at the baron's ear . Tears upon his eyelids glistened , And he paused awhile and listened , And the dying baron ...
... Till at length the lays they chanted Reached the chamber terror - haunted , Where the monk , with accents holy , Whispered at the baron's ear . Tears upon his eyelids glistened , And he paused awhile and listened , And the dying baron ...
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... Till my attempt so much be glorified As to my ample hope was promised Before I drew this gallant head of war , And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world , To outlook conquest and to win renown Even in the jaws of danger and of death ...
... Till my attempt so much be glorified As to my ample hope was promised Before I drew this gallant head of war , And cull'd these fiery spirits from the world , To outlook conquest and to win renown Even in the jaws of danger and of death ...
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A. C. Benson A. C. SWINBURNE army banner battle BATTLE OF NASEBY blood bonnet of Bonny Bonny Dundee brave Castle Charles Church Cromwell crown dark darling dear death deep doth drum Duke Earl earth Eightpence England English eyes fame fate father fear fell fierce fight fire flame fleet fought France French gallant glory hand hast hath head hear heard heart Heaven hill honour horse Jacobite rising Killicrankie King Edward King Henry land Long Parliament Lord Lord Tennyson loud Marston Moor Mary Beaton mighty Mons Meg night numbers o'er Pandulph Parliament peace Plymouth Hoe poem Pope pride Prince proud Queen Richard roar royal Rupert Saint Says the Shan Scotland Shan Van Vocht Sir Nicholas sleep smile song soul sound spears stood Strafford sword tears thee thine thou Tower Trelawny Twas victory waves wild wind young Chevalier ΙΟ
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28 ページ - Her own shall bless her: Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, And hang their heads with sorrow. Good grows with her; In her days every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine what he plants, and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours.
8 ページ - Be copy now to men of grosser blood, And teach them how to war. — And you, good yeomen, Whose limbs were made in England, show us here The mettle of your pasture : let us swear That you are worth your breeding ; which I doubt not, For there is none of you so mean and base, That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot : Follow your spirit ; and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry ! England ! and Saint George...
42 ページ - SEA. Nobly, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the North-West died away ; Sunset ran, one glorious blood-red, reeking into Cadiz Bay; Bluish 'mid the burning water, full in face Trafalgar lay ; In the dimmest North-East distance dawned Gibraltar grand and gray; " Here and here did England help me : how can I help England...
65 ページ - HALF a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. " Forward, the Light Brigade ! " Charge for the guns ! " he said : Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
53 ページ - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness ; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
8 ページ - CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed...
9 ページ - And rouse him at the name of Crispian. He that shall live this day, and see old age, Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours, And say, " To-morrow is Saint Crispian : " Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say, " These wounds I had on Crispin's day.
39 ページ - This England never did, (nor never shall,) Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, And we shall shock them : Nought shall make us rue, If England to itself do rest but true.
54 ページ - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves Dewy with nature's tear-drops, as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, — alas ! Ere evening, to be trodden like the grass...
39 ページ - Milton! thou should'st be living at this hour: England hath need of thee: she is a fen Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men. Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.