The league of the Alps, The siege of Valencia, The vespers of Palermo, and other poemsHilliard, Gray, Little, and Wilkins, 1826 |
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Сторінка 29
... tears , his eye Beseechingly to hers , and half in fear Turn'd from the white - rob'd priest , and round her arm Clung as the ivy clings - the deep spring - tide Of Nature then swell'd high , and o'er her child Bending , her soul broke ...
... tears , his eye Beseechingly to hers , and half in fear Turn'd from the white - rob'd priest , and round her arm Clung as the ivy clings - the deep spring - tide Of Nature then swell'd high , and o'er her child Bending , her soul broke ...
Сторінка 34
... tears hath wet The hair , shedding gleams from thy pale brow yet ; Love with sad kisses unfelt hath prest Thy meek dropt eyelids and quiet breast ; And the glad Spring , calling out bird and bee 34 The Child's Last Sleep •
... tears hath wet The hair , shedding gleams from thy pale brow yet ; Love with sad kisses unfelt hath prest Thy meek dropt eyelids and quiet breast ; And the glad Spring , calling out bird and bee 34 The Child's Last Sleep •
Сторінка 36
... native scorn , And her smile kindles with a conscious glow , As from the thought of sovereign beauty born . -These may be dreams - but how shall woman tell Of woman's shame , and not with tears ? -she 36 The Lady of the Castle •
... native scorn , And her smile kindles with a conscious glow , As from the thought of sovereign beauty born . -These may be dreams - but how shall woman tell Of woman's shame , and not with tears ? -she 36 The Lady of the Castle •
Сторінка 37
Mrs. Hemans Andrews Norton. Of woman's shame , and not with tears ? -she fell ! That mother left that child - went hurrying by Its cradle - haply , not without a sigh- Haply one moment o'er its rest serene She hung - but no ! it could ...
Mrs. Hemans Andrews Norton. Of woman's shame , and not with tears ? -she fell ! That mother left that child - went hurrying by Its cradle - haply , not without a sigh- Haply one moment o'er its rest serene She hung - but no ! it could ...
Сторінка 38
... tears , But Youth bows down to misery , in amaze At the dark cloud o'ermantling its fresh days ; And thus it was with her . - A mournful sight In one so fair ; for she indeed was fair- Not with her mother's dazzling eyes of light , Hers ...
... tears , But Youth bows down to misery , in amaze At the dark cloud o'ermantling its fresh days ; And thus it was with her . - A mournful sight In one so fair ; for she indeed was fair- Not with her mother's dazzling eyes of light , Hers ...
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ABDULLAH ALPHONSO ANSELMO arms art thou aught banner bear beneath BERNARDO DEL CARPIO blood brave breast breath breeze bright brow burst call'd Castile CITIZEN clouds Conradin CONSTANCE Couci dark dead death deep doth dreams e'en earth ELMINA ERIBERT Ev'n Exeunt Exit fair father fearful flowers gaze glorious glory gone GONZALEZ GUIDO hast thou hath hear heard heart Heaven HERNANDEZ hope hour joyous know'st land light lone look look'd midst MONTALBA Moorish ne'er night noble o'er pale pass'd pour'd PROCIDA proud Provençal RAIMOND rest Roncesvalles round SCENE scorn seem'd shalt shouldst shrink SICILIANS Sicily silent sleep slumber smile song soul sound Spain speak spirit strong sweet sword tell thee thine things thou art thou hast Thou wouldst thought trumpets Twas unto Valencia VITTORIA voice wave wild wilt winds wouldst thou XIMENA youth ΧΙΜΕΝΑ
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Сторінка 26 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came: Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame; Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear — They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea; And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free!
Сторінка 128 - The flame that lit the battle's wreck, Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm — A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form. The flames rolled on. He would not go Without his father's word ; That father, faint in death below, His voice no longer heard. He call'd aloud : — " Say, father ! say If yet my task is done ! " He knew not that the chieftain lay Unconscious of his son. " Speak, father !" once again he cried,
Сторінка 27 - What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? — They sought a faith's pure shrine. Ay, call it holy ground, — The soil where first they trod! They have left unstained what there they found — Freedom to worship God ! Felicia Hemans.
Сторінка 25 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Сторінка 129 - The boy — oh ! where was he ? — Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strewed the sea ! With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, '-,.< That well had borne their part — But the noblest thing that perished there Was that young faithful heart.
Сторінка 83 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set, but all — Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death...
Сторінка 145 - Though fresh within your breasts th' untroubled springs Of Hope make melody where'er ye tread, And o'er your sleep bright shadows, from the wings Of spirits visiting but youth, be spread; Yet in those flute-like voices, mingling low, Is woman's tenderness — how soon her...
Сторінка 61 - Into these glassy eyes put light — be still! keep down thine ire! Bid these white lips a blessing speak — this earth is not my sire — Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed! Thou canst not? — and a king! — his dust be mountains on thy head!
Сторінка 59 - Father!" at length he murmured low — and wept like childhood then— Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men ! — He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown — He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,
Сторінка 41 - HOW could Fancy crown with thee In ancient days the God of Wine, And bid thee at the banquet be Companion of the vine? Thy home, wild plant, is where each sound Of revelry hath long been o'er, Where song's full notes once peal'd around, But now are heard no more.