Τι λένε οι χρήστες - Σύνταξη κριτικής
Δεν εντοπίσαμε κριτικές στις συνήθεις τοποθεσίες.
Άλλες εκδόσεις - Προβολή όλων
arms beauty beneath blood bloom bosom breast breath charms cheer clouds dark dead death deep dread earth eyes face fair fall fame fancy fate fear fire flame gentle give glory grace grave groves hand head hear heard heart heaven hill hope hour kind land light live lonely look mind morn mourn Muse nature Nature's never night o'er once pain peace pity plain pleasure poor praise pride rage rest rise round scene shade shore sight sing skies sleep smile soft song sons soon soul sound strain stream sweet tears tell thee thine things thou thought thousand thro toil trembling turn vain vale virtue voice wandering wave wild wind wings woods wretch youth
Σελίδα 117 - For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care ; No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share.
Σελίδα 222 - I care not, fortune, what you me deny ; You cannot rob me of free nature's grace ; You cannot shut the windows of the sky, Through which Aurora shows her brightening face, You cannot bar my constant feet to trace The woods and lawns, by living stream, at eve : Let health my nerves and finer fibres brace, And I their toys to the great children leave : Of fancy, reason, virtue, nought can me bereave.
Σελίδα 173 - Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, Whose bright succession decks the varied year; Whatever sweets salute the northern sky With vernal lives, that blossom but to die ; These here disporting own the kindred soil, Nor ask luxuriance from the planter's toil ; While sea-born gales their gelid wings expand, To winnow fragrance round the smiling land.
Σελίδα 193 - Sent forth a sleepy horror through the blood ; And where this valley winded out, below, The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely heard, to flow.
Σελίδα 120 - Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply : And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die.
Σελίδα 141 - By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the slain, At the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw; And thrice ere the morning I dreamt it again. Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array Far, far I had roamed on a desolate track: 'Twas autumn, — and sunshine arose on the way To the home of my fathers, that welcomed me back.
Σελίδα 181 - And calmly bent, to servitude conform, Dull as their lakes that slumber in the storm. Heavens ! how unlike their Belgic sires of old ! Rough, poor, content, ungovernably bold ; War in each breast, and freedom on each brow.
Σελίδα 169 - Where all the ruddy family around Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail, Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale; Or press the bashful stranger to his food, And learn the luxury of doing good.
Σελίδα 177 - And haply, though my harsh touch, faltering still, But mock'd all tune, and marr'd the dancer's skill, Yet would the village praise my wondrous power, And dance, forgetful of the noontide hour. Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze ; And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.