Works: With a Memoir by Her Sister, and an Essay on Her Genius, Том 5Sea & Blanchard, 1842 |
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... FLOWER FROM THE FIELD OF GRUTLI ON A LEAF FROM THE TOMB OF VIRGIL THE CHIEFTAIN'S SON A FRAGMENT ENGLAND'S DEAD 128 .... ... 129 130 131 132 THE MEETING OF THE BARDS .... 134 137 THE VOICE OF SPRING RECORDS OF WOMAN : Arabella Stuart ...
... FLOWER FROM THE FIELD OF GRUTLI ON A LEAF FROM THE TOMB OF VIRGIL THE CHIEFTAIN'S SON A FRAGMENT ENGLAND'S DEAD 128 .... ... 129 130 131 132 THE MEETING OF THE BARDS .... 134 137 THE VOICE OF SPRING RECORDS OF WOMAN : Arabella Stuart ...
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... flower That sleeps entomb'd through the long wintry storms Unfold its beauty to the breath of spring ; And shall not woman's heart , from chill despair , Wake at love's voice ? Vittoria . Love ! - make love's name thy spell , And I am ...
... flower That sleeps entomb'd through the long wintry storms Unfold its beauty to the breath of spring ; And shall not woman's heart , from chill despair , Wake at love's voice ? Vittoria . Love ! - make love's name thy spell , And I am ...
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... flower Strewn in life's crowded path ! -But be it so ! Be it enough to know that happiness Meets thee on other shores . Raimond . Where'er I roam , Thou shalt be with my soul ! -Thy soft low voice Shall rise upon remembrance , like a ...
... flower Strewn in life's crowded path ! -But be it so ! Be it enough to know that happiness Meets thee on other shores . Raimond . Where'er I roam , Thou shalt be with my soul ! -Thy soft low voice Shall rise upon remembrance , like a ...
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... Procida ! Call on the outcast , when revenge is nigh . Procida . I knew a young Sicilian , one whose heart Should be all fire . On that most guilty day , When , with our martyr'd Conradin , the flower Of 38 VESPERS OF PALERMO .
... Procida ! Call on the outcast , when revenge is nigh . Procida . I knew a young Sicilian , one whose heart Should be all fire . On that most guilty day , When , with our martyr'd Conradin , the flower Of 38 VESPERS OF PALERMO .
Сторінка 39
... flower Of the land's knighthood perish'd ; he , of whom I speak , a weeping boy , whose innocent tears Melted a thousand hearts that dared not aid , Stood by the scaffold with extended arms Calling upon his father , whose last look Turn ...
... flower Of the land's knighthood perish'd ; he , of whom I speak , a weeping boy , whose innocent tears Melted a thousand hearts that dared not aid , Stood by the scaffold with extended arms Calling upon his father , whose last look Turn ...
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Anselmo ARABELLA STUART art thou banners bear beautiful beneath bow'd brave breast breath breeze bright brow cheek Conradin Constance Couci dark dead death deep doth dreams dwell e'en earth Eribert Ev'n fair father fear flowers gaze gentle glad glance gleam glorious glow gone Gorsedd grave green grief Guido hath heart heaven hour human voice hush'd Joanna Baillie leaves light lips lone look look'd lyre midst mighty heart Montalba mother mournful night noble o'er pale pass'd planxty pour'd Procida proud Provençal racter Raimond rest rose round SCENE seem'd shining Sicilians Sicily silent sleep slumber smile soft solemn song soul sound speak spirit stood stream strong sunny sweet sword tears thee thine things thou art Thou hast thought thro tomb tone Twas unto Vittoria voice warrior wave wild winds woman's wouldst young youth
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Сторінка 237 - 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 293 - 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 254 - 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 268 - Yet speak to me ! I have outwatch'd the stars, And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee. Speak to me ! I have wander'd o'er the earth, And never found thy likeness — Speak to me ! Look on the fiends around — they feel for me : I fear them not, and feel for thee alone — Speak to me ! though it be...
Сторінка 291 - 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 156 - Through many a joyous hour, Where the silvery green of the olive shade Hung dim o'er fount and bower. Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore, In song, in prayer, in sleep, Have been, as we may be no more ; Kind sister, let me weep...
Сторінка 137 - I come, I come ! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song ; Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Сторінка 311 - A change we have found there — and many a change! Faces, and footsteps, and all things strange ! Gone are the heads of the silvery hair, And the young that were have a brow of care, And the place is hush'd where the children play'd — Nought looks the same, save the nest we made...
Сторінка 141 - Yet further may relent : for mightier far Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast. But if thou goest, I follow...
Сторінка 291 - 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 gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.