The Poets and Poetry of England: In the Nineteenth Century |
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Page 69
... falchion drew , Each on the ground his scabbard threw , Each look'd to sun , and stream , and plain , As what he ne'er might see again ; Then , foot , and point , and eye opposed , In dubious strife they darkly closed.- Ill fared it now ...
... falchion drew , Each on the ground his scabbard threw , Each look'd to sun , and stream , and plain , As what he ne'er might see again ; Then , foot , and point , and eye opposed , In dubious strife they darkly closed.- Ill fared it now ...
Page 72
... falchions redden , And heard the slogan's deadly yell- Then the Chief of Branksome fell ! Can piety the discord heal , Or stanch the death - feud's enmity ? Can Christian lore , can patriot zeal , Can love of blessed charity ? No ...
... falchions redden , And heard the slogan's deadly yell- Then the Chief of Branksome fell ! Can piety the discord heal , Or stanch the death - feud's enmity ? Can Christian lore , can patriot zeal , Can love of blessed charity ? No ...
Page 128
... falchion well With many a wondrous mutter'd speil . If bold Hialmar's might can gain A weapon from their lone domain , Nor stone nor iron shall withstand The dint of such a gifted brand ; Its edge shall drink Angantyr's blood , And ...
... falchion well With many a wondrous mutter'd speil . If bold Hialmar's might can gain A weapon from their lone domain , Nor stone nor iron shall withstand The dint of such a gifted brand ; Its edge shall drink Angantyr's blood , And ...
Page 147
... falchions from unnumber'd sheaths Are starting to avenge the shame His race had brought on Iran's name . Hard , heartless chief , unmoved alike Mid eyes that weep , and swords that strike- One of that saintly , murderous brood , To ...
... falchions from unnumber'd sheaths Are starting to avenge the shame His race had brought on Iran's name . Hard , heartless chief , unmoved alike Mid eyes that weep , and swords that strike- One of that saintly , murderous brood , To ...
Page 149
... falchion by his side , I've heard him swear his lisping maid In time should be a warrior's bride . And still , whene'er , at haram hours , I take him cool sherbets and flowers , He tells me , when in playful mood , A hero shall my ...
... falchion by his side , I've heard him swear his lisping maid In time should be a warrior's bride . And still , whene'er , at haram hours , I take him cool sherbets and flowers , He tells me , when in playful mood , A hero shall my ...
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art thou beauty beneath blest bliss blood born bosom bower breast breath bright brow calm Catiline cheek child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep dread dream e'en earth England eyes fair falchion fear feel flowers gaze gentle gloom glory grave green grief hand hast hath hear heard heart heaven HENRY KIRKE WHITE hope hour John of Procida king land Lars Porsena light lips living lone look look'd Lord LORD BYRON lyre mind morning mountain ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd poems poet rapture rill rock rose round Samian wine scene Scotland seem'd shade shine shore sigh silent sleep smile song sorrow soul sound spirit stars storm stream sweet tears tempest thee thine things thou art thought tomb turn'd Twas vex'd voice waves weep wild wind wings youth