 GAVE my Harp to Sorrow's hand, And she has ruled the chords so long, They will not speak at my command ; — They warble only to her song. Of dear, departed hours, Too fondly loved to last, The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, Snapt in their freshness...  The West Indies, and Other Poems - Pàgina 84per James Montgomery - 1814 - 160 pàginesVisualització completa - Sobre aquest llibre
 | Edmund Burke - 1812 - 850 pàgines
...last, The dew, the breath, the bloom of rlowers, Snapt in their freshness by the blast : — Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering Nature yields...of despair, Beyond the judgment-day of death : The The weeping Minstrel sings, And while her numbers flow, My spirit trembles with the strings, Responsive... | |
 | 1807 - 532 pàgines
...last, -s-The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, That died untimely in the blast ; — Of long, long years of future care Till lingering Nature yields...And endless ages of despair Beyond the judgment-day ef death ; — The weeping Minstrel sings, 'And while her numbers flow, My Spirit trembles thro'; the... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray (IV), Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1811 - 622 pàgines
...last, . The dew, the breath, the bloom of (lowers, Snapt in their freshness by the blast : — Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering Nature yields...The weeping Minstrel sings, And while her numbers How, My spirit trembles with the strings, Responsive to the notes of woe. O! snatch the Harp from Sorrow's... | |
 | 1811 - 386 pàgines
...loved to last, The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, That died untimely in the blast: Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering nature yields her breath; And endless ages of despair, Beneath the judgment day of death: The weeping minstrel sings, And while her numbers flow, My spirit... | |
 | 1812 - 822 pàgines
...last, The dew, the brc-a'.h, the bloom of flowerj, Snapt in their freshness by the blast : — Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering Nature yields her breath, And tndless ages of despair, Beyond the judgment-day of death : The The weeping Minstrel sings, And while... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray (IV), Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle), George Walter Prothero - 1820 - 594 pàgines
...last, The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, Snapt in their freshness by the blast : — ; Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering Nature yields...with the strings, Responsive to the notes of woe. O ! snatch the Harp from Sorrow's hand, Hope ! who hast been a stranger long ; O ! strike it with sublime... | |
 | British melodies - 1820 - 280 pàgines
...to last, The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, Snapt in their freshness by the blast : Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering Nature yields...despair, Beyond the judgment-day of death — The weeping minstrels sings, And while her numbers flow, My spirit trembles with the strings, Responsive to the... | |
 | James Montgomery - 1821 - 294 pàgines
...to last, The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, Snapt in their freshness by the blast: Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering Nature yields...numbers flow, My spirit trembles with the strings, Would gladness move a sprightlier strain, And wake this wild Harp's clearest tones, The chords impatient... | |
 | Edmund Burke - 1825 - 1096 pàgines
...last, The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, Snapt in their freshness by the blast : — Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering Nature yields...her breath, And endless ages of despair, Beyond the judgrnemt-day of death : The weeping Minstrel sings, And while her numbers flow, My spirit trembles... | |
 | Samuel Rogers - 1830 - 516 pàgines
...to last, The dew, the breath, the bloom of flowers, Snapt in their freshness by the blast: Of long, long years of future care, Till lingering Nature yields...spirit trembles with the strings, Responsive to the note« of woe. Would gladness move a sprightlier strain, And wake this wild Harp's clearest tones,... | |
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