The Poetical Sketch-book: Including a Third Edition of Australia

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Edward Bull, 1829 - 286 pages
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Page 140 - The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne, Burn'd on the water ; the poop was beaten gold, Purple the sails, and so perfumed that The winds were love-sick with them, the oars were silver, Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made The water which they beat to follow faster, As amorous of their strokes.
Page xii - Valley" will not bear a comparison with the " Hall of Eblis." BRIDE OF ABYDOS, A TURKISH TALE. " Hart we never loved so kindly, " Had we never loved so blindly, " Never met or never parted, " We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Page 69 - Time which antiquates antiquities, and hath an art to make dust of all things, hath yet spared these minor monuments.
Page 9 - Music around her, and sunshine on high Pauses to think, amid glitter and glow, Oh ! there be hearts that are breaking, below ! Night on the waves ! and the moon is on high, Hung, like a gem, on the brow of the sky ; Treading its depths, in the power of her might. And turning the clouds, as they pass her, to light Look to the waters, asleep on their breast, Seems not the ship like an island of rest ? Bright and alone on the shadowy main, Like a heart-cherished home on some desolate plain...
Page 142 - Lybian kneels, as he meets her eye, Like the flash of an Eastern star ! The gales may not be heard, Yet the silken streamers quiver, And the vessel shoots like a bright-plumed bird Away, down the golden river ! Away by the lofty mount ! And away by the lonely shore ! And away by the gushing of many a fount Where fountains gush no more...
Page 64 - And the moon conies out, with her pale, sad light, To sit on the lonely hill ! When the stars are all like dreams, And the breezes all like sighs, And there comes a voice from the far-off streams, Like thy spirit's low replies ! I think on thee, by day, 'Mid...
Page 58 - ... all alone ! And the forms which I fondly loved are flown, And friends have departed one by one ; And memory sits whole lonely hours, And weaves her wreath of hope's faded flowers. And weeps o'er the chaplet, when no one is near To gaze on her grief, or to chide her tear ! And the home of my childhood is distant far, And I walk in a land where strangers are ; And the looks that I meet, and the sounds that I hear. Are not light to my spirit, nor song to my ear ; And sunshine is round me, which...
Page 10 - Yet charter'd by sorrow, and freighted with sighs. Fading and false is the aspect it wears, As the smiles we put on just to cover our tears ; And the withering thoughts which the world cannot know, Like heart-broken exiles, lie burning below...
Page 15 - In vain the turban'd tyrant rears his halls, And plants the symbol of his faith and slaughters, Now, even now, the beam of promise falls Bright upon Hellas, as her own bright daughters, And a Greek Ararat is rising o'er the waters ! Thou art not silent ! when the southern fair, Ionia's moon ", looks down upon thy breast, Smiling, as pity smiles above despair, Soft as young beauty soothing age to rest, Sings the night-spirit in thy weedy crest ; And she, the minstrel of the moonlight hours,...
Page 260 - Since it left, to my bosom, its dearest and best ! Slumber lie soft on thy beautiful eye ! Love be a rainbow, to brighten thy sky ! Oh! not for sunshine and hope, would I part With the shade time has flung over all but thy heart ! Still art thou all which thou wert, when a child Only more holy and only less wild ! TO MYRA.

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