The Literary History of England in the End of the Eighteenth and Beginning of the Nineteenth Century, Том 3

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Сторінка 47 - Whate'er the theme the Maiden sang, As if her song could have no ending. I listen motionless and still; And as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more." After the composition of Alastor, Shelley, with his Mary and the young woman who
Сторінка 219 - With deep affection And recollection I often think on Those Shandon bells ; Whose sounds so wild would, In the days of childhood, Fling round my cradle Their magic spells. On thee I ponder Where'er I wander, And thus grow fonder, Sweet Cork, of thee ; With thy
Сторінка 220 - the Tiber, Pealing solemnly Oh the bells of Shandon Sound far more grand on The pleasant waters Of the river Lee ! " There's a bell in Moscow ; While on tower and kiosk, 0, In Saint Sophia, The Turkman gets; And loud in air Calls
Сторінка 120 - her cold finger closer to her lips. Along the margin-sand large foot-marks went, No further than to where his feet had stray'd, And slept there since. Upon the sodden ground His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead, Unsceptred ; and his realmless eyes were closed ; While his bow'd head seem'd listening to the Earth, His ancient mother, for some
Сторінка 47 - motionless and still; And as I mounted up the hill, The music in my heart I bore Long after it was heard no more.
Сторінка 153 - We brought away from battle, And much their land bemoaned them, Two thousand head of cattle, And the head of him that owned them. Ednyfed, King of Dyfed, His head was borne before us ; His wine and beasts supplied our feasts, And his overthrow our chorus.
Сторінка 126 - Oh, that I could be buried near where she lives. I am afraid to write to her, to receive a letter from her—to see her handwriting would break my heart, even to hear of her anyhow; to see her name written would be more than I can bear. . . . My dear Brown,
Сторінка 88 - widening labyrinths upon its immense platforms and dizzy arches suspended in the air. The bright blue sky of Eome, and the effect of the vigorous awakening spring in that divinest climate, and the new life with which it drenches the
Сторінка 60 - Phantom of Astarte. Manfred ! Man. Say on, say on— I live but in the sound—it is thy voice ! Phan. Manfred ! To-morrow ends thine earthly ills. Farewell! Man. Yet one word more—am I forgiven ? Phan. Farewell! Man. Say, shall we meet again ? Phan. Farewell ! Man. One word for mercy 1 Say, thou lovest me.
Сторінка 153 - Vawr will be found, if they chance to strike the reader's ear and fancy, to be one of those utterances of genius which prove applicable to all the circumstances of life. " The mountain sheep are sweeter, But the valley sheep are fatter ; We therefore deemed it meeter To carry off the latter. We made an expedition, We met a host and quelled it, We

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