The pirate. By the author of 'Waverley'.

Передня обкладинка
1822
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Сторінка 50 - She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Сторінка 184 - Goes on to sea, and knows not to retire. With roomy decks, her guns of mighty strength, Whose low-laid mouths each mounting billow laves : Deep in her draught, and warlike in her length, She seems a sea-wasp flying on the waves.
Сторінка 299 - Portugal I sung, Was but the prelude to that glorious day, When thou on silver Thames did'st cut thy way, With...
Сторінка 279 - I do love these ancient ruins — We never tread upon them but we set Our foot upon some reverend history ; And, questionless, here, in this open court, (Which now lies naked to the injuries Of stormy weather,) some men lie interr'd, Loved the Church so well, and gave so largely to it, They thought it should have canopied their bones Till doomsday ; — but all things have their end— Churches and cities, which have diseases like to men, Must have like death which we have.
Сторінка 215 - Over the mountains And over the waves, Under the fountains And under the graves ; Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey ; Over rocks that are steepest Love will find out the way.
Сторінка 200 - Some of their chiefs were princes of the land; In the first rank of these did Zimri stand, A man so various that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome...
Сторінка 150 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our neelds, created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate.
Сторінка 119 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech ; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach.
Сторінка 298 - Nae langer she wept^— her tears were a' spent,— Despair it was come, and she thought it content; She thought it content, but her cheek it grew pale, And she droop'd, like a lily broke down by the hail.

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