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Raamatud Books
" His pomp, his pride, his skill ; And arts that made fire, flood, and earth, The vassals of his will ; — Yet mourn I not thy parted sway, Thou dim discrowned king of day : For all those trophied arts And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Heal'd not... "
New Monthly Magazine - Page 273
redigeeritud poolt - 1823
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English Sacred Poetry of the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth & Nineteenth ...

Robert Aris Willmott - 1862 - 387 lehte
...nf men, Nor with thy rising beams recall Lite's tragedy again : Its piteous pageants bring not baek, Nor waken flesh, upon the rack Of pain anew to writhe. Stretch'd in disease's shapes abhnrr'd, Or mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe. Ev'n I am weary in yon skies...
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English Sacred Poetry of the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and ...

Robert Aris Willmott - 1863 - 387 lehte
...arts And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Heal'd not a passion or a pang Entail'd on human hearts. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage of...mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe. E'en I am weary in yon skies To watch thy fading fire : Test of all sumless agonies, liehold...
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Half-hours with our sacred poets [an anthology] ed. by A.H. Grant

Half hours - 1863
...arts, And triumphs that beneath thee sprang Healed not a passion or a pang Entailed on human hearts. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage of...Nor waken flesh upon the rack Of pain anew to writhe ; Stretched in disease's shapes abhorred, Or mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe....
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Lays and Lyrics of the Nineteenth Century

1863
...human hearts. Go — let oblivion s curtain fall Upon the stage of man, Nor with thy rising beams recal Life's tragedy again ; Its piteous pageants bring not back, Nor waken flesh, upon the rack Of pain, again to writhe ; Stretched in diseases, shapes abhorred, Or mown in battle by the sword, Like grass...
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Choice specimens of English literature, selected and arranged by T.B. Shaw ...

Thomas Budd Shaw, sir William Smith - 1864
...arts And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Heal'd not a passion or a pang EntaiFd on human hearts. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage of...mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the sithe. Ev'n I am weary in yon skies To watch thy fading fire ; Test of all sumless agonies, Behold...
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The Poetical Works of Thomas Campbell

1866
...arts And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Heal'd not a passion or a pang Entail'd on human hearts. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage of...mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe. Test of all sumless agonies, Behold not me expire. My lips that speak thy dirge of death —...
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The British Poets

1866
...arts And triumphs that beneath thee sprang, Heal'd not a passion or a pang Entail'd on human hearts. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage of...mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe. Test of all sumless agonies, Behold not me expire. My lips that speak thy dirge of death —...
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The Advanced Reader

1866 - 400 lehte
...beneath thee sprang, Healed not a passion, or a pang, Eutalled on human hearts. THE ABBOT AND FOOL. Go — let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage...waken flesh, upon the rack Of pain anew to writhe; Stretched in disease's shapes abhorred, Or mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe....
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The Progressive English reading books, 4. köide

Nelson Thomas and sons, ltd - 1866
...And triumphs, that beneath thee sprang, Healed not a passion, or a pang, Entailed on human hearts. Go — let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage...waken flesh, upon the rack Of pain anew to writhe; Stretched in disease's shapes abhorred. Or mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe....
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Penny readings in prose and verse, selected and ed. by J.E. Carpenter, 6. köide

Penny readings - 1867
...arts And triumphs that beneath theo sprang, Heal'd not a passion or a pang Entail'd on human hearts. Go, let oblivion's curtain fall Upon the stage of...mown in battle by the sword, Like grass beneath the scythe. Even I am weary in yon skies To watch thy fading fire; Test of all sunless agonies, Behold...
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