Records of Woman, with Other PoemsGilley, 1828 - 324 стор. |
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Сторінка 17
... , ye flowers ! O'er By some kind hand to cheer my dungeon sent ; you the oak shed down the summer showers , And the lark's nest was where your bright cups bent , Quivering to breeze and rain - drop , like the 2 * ARABELLA STUART . 17.
... , ye flowers ! O'er By some kind hand to cheer my dungeon sent ; you the oak shed down the summer showers , And the lark's nest was where your bright cups bent , Quivering to breeze and rain - drop , like the 2 * ARABELLA STUART . 17.
Сторінка 24
... hands , thy freedom , and re - track ( After a few kind tears for her whose days Went out in dreams of thee ) the sunny ways Of hope , and find thou happiness ! Yet send , Ev'n then , in silent hours a thought , dear friend ! Down to my ...
... hands , thy freedom , and re - track ( After a few kind tears for her whose days Went out in dreams of thee ) the sunny ways Of hope , and find thou happiness ! Yet send , Ev'n then , in silent hours a thought , dear friend ! Down to my ...
Сторінка 27
... hand awhile In his that waited her dawning smile , Her soul's affianced , nor cherish'd less For the gush of nature's tenderness ! She lifted her graceful head at last— The choking swell of her heart was past ; And her lovely thoughts ...
... hand awhile In his that waited her dawning smile , Her soul's affianced , nor cherish'd less For the gush of nature's tenderness ! She lifted her graceful head at last— The choking swell of her heart was past ; And her lovely thoughts ...
Сторінка 36
... art thou ? The slave and his master alike are gone .-- Mother ! who stands on the deck alone ? The child of thy bosom ! -and lo ! a brand Blazing up high in her lifted hand ! And her veil flung back , and her free dark 36 RECORDS OF WOMAN .
... art thou ? The slave and his master alike are gone .-- Mother ! who stands on the deck alone ? The child of thy bosom ! -and lo ! a brand Blazing up high in her lifted hand ! And her veil flung back , and her free dark 36 RECORDS OF WOMAN .
Сторінка 37
... her pale arms in vain To the form they must never infold again . One moment more , and her hands are clasp'd , Fallen is the torch they had wildly grasp'd , Her sinking knee unto Heaven is bow'd , And her 4 THE BRIDE OF THE GREEK ISLE . 37.
... her pale arms in vain To the form they must never infold again . One moment more , and her hands are clasp'd , Fallen is the torch they had wildly grasp'd , Her sinking knee unto Heaven is bow'd , And her 4 THE BRIDE OF THE GREEK ISLE . 37.
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ARABELLA STUART art thou beautiful beneath bird bosom bow'd breast breath breeze bright bright land brightly brow cheek child Childe Harold dark dead death deep dream dust dwell earth Eudora Ev'n fair fear floating flowers forest fount gaze gentle glad glance gleam gloom glow gone grave green grief hair hath haunted heart heaven holy hour human voice hush'd JOANNA BAILLIE leaves light lip's lips lone look'd lov'd lyre MADAME DE STAEL mantle midst mother mournful murmur night o'er pale pass'd pour'd prayer press'd proud RHEIMS rose round Seem'd shade shadow silent silvery sleep smile soft solemn song soul sound spirit stood stream strong sunny sweet sword tears tender thee thine things thou art Thou hast thou wert Thou'rt thought thro tomb tone Twas unto voice wandering wave weep whisper wild wind woman's woods young youth
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Сторінка 265 - 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 269 - Yet not to thine eternal resting-place Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre.
Сторінка 263 - 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 266 - And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound — A tone of music, — summer's eve — or spring, A flower — the wind — the Ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
Сторінка 264 - Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth.
Сторінка 171 - THE stately homes of England, How beautiful they stand, Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land ! The deer across their greensward bound Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Сторінка 242 - Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell ! Here are sweet sounds, which thou lovest well ; Flutes on the air in the stilly noon, Harps which the wandering breezes tune ; And the silvery wood-note of many a bird, Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard.
Сторінка 202 - O good old man ; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat, but for promotion; And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
Сторінка 288 - BERNARD BARTON. BY the soft green light in the woody glade, On the banks of moss where thy childhood play'd, By the household tree through which thine eye First look'd in love to the summer sky, By the dewy gleam, by the very breath Of the primrose tufts in the grass beneath, Upon thy heart there is laid a spell, Holy and precious — oh ! guard it well...
Сторінка 302 - One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid; The Indian knows his place of rest Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep, He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.