Melanie and Other PoemsSaunders and Otley, 1837 - 242 страници |
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Страница 23
... lady should not scorn One soul that loves her , howe'er lowly it be . " BARRY CORNWALL . LORD IVON . How beautiful it is ! Come here , my daughter ! Is't not a face of most bewildering brightness ? ISIDORE . The features are all fair ...
... lady should not scorn One soul that loves her , howe'er lowly it be . " BARRY CORNWALL . LORD IVON . How beautiful it is ! Come here , my daughter ! Is't not a face of most bewildering brightness ? ISIDORE . The features are all fair ...
Страница 27
... ISIDORE . Loved he the lady , sir ? LORD IVON . So ran the tale . How well I do remember it ! Poor youth ! ISIDORE . Alas ! LORD IVON . I never thought to pity him . The bride was a duke's sister ; and I mused AND HIS DAUGHTER . 27.
... ISIDORE . Loved he the lady , sir ? LORD IVON . So ran the tale . How well I do remember it ! Poor youth ! ISIDORE . Alas ! LORD IVON . I never thought to pity him . The bride was a duke's sister ; and I mused AND HIS DAUGHTER . 27.
Страница 29
... lady's ear , He insolently bade me to begone . Listening not , I swept my fingers o'er The strings in prelude , when the base - born slave Struck me ! ISIDORE . Impossible ! LORD IVON . I dash'd my lute Into his face , and o'er the ...
... lady's ear , He insolently bade me to begone . Listening not , I swept my fingers o'er The strings in prelude , when the base - born slave Struck me ! ISIDORE . Impossible ! LORD IVON . I dash'd my lute Into his face , and o'er the ...
Страница 31
... Lady Clare . Art weary of my tale ? ISIDORE . Dear father ! LORD IVON . Well ! A summer , and a winter , and a spring , Went over me like brief and noteless hours . Forever at the side of one who grew With every morn more beautiful ...
... Lady Clare . Art weary of my tale ? ISIDORE . Dear father ! LORD IVON . Well ! A summer , and a winter , and a spring , Went over me like brief and noteless hours . Forever at the side of one who grew With every morn more beautiful ...
Страница 32
... Lady Clare , Rob'd as the queen of Faery , who shall crown The victor with his bays . " Pass over all To that bewildering day . She sat enthroned Amid the court ; and never twilight star Sprang with such sweet surprise upon the eye As ...
... Lady Clare , Rob'd as the queen of Faery , who shall crown The victor with his bays . " Pass over all To that bewildering day . She sat enthroned Amid the court ; and never twilight star Sprang with such sweet surprise upon the eye As ...
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Absalom amid beauty beneath birds bosom breast breath bright broken brow calm cheek child clouds cool dark death dream earth ev'n face faint fair feel feet fingers fire flowers flung folds forehead forget fountain gather'd gaze gentle glory gold grew hair hand hath hear heart heaven Helon hour hung idle ISIDORE Khorat knew Lady Clare latchet leaning light lips look look'd LORD IVON lov'd loveliness lyre Melanie METASTASIO minstrel boy morn mother Mount Arafat N. P. WILLIS night o'er Parrhasius pass Pleiades pray'd prayer pride pulses Sea of Galilee seem'd shadows shine silent silver sleep slept slumber smile soft soul spirit star stirr'd stirring stole stood sweet sweet child tears thee-I thought thine things Thou hast thought of thee touch'd Twas Twill voice watch waters weary whisper wild wind wings
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Страница 89 - Parrhasius stood, gazing forgetfully Upon his canvas. There Prometheus lay, Chained to the cold rocks of Mount Caucasus — The vulture at his vitals, and the links Of the lame Lemnian festering in his flesh...
Страница 53 - Thou hast a few names even in Sardis which have not defiled their garments; and they shall walk with me in white: for they are worthy.
Страница 172 - When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air. Filling the spirit with tones of prayer, — Whatever tale in the bell is heard, He broods on his folded feet...
Страница 214 - I LOVE to look on a scene like this, Of wild and careless play, And persuade myself that I am not old, And my locks are not yet gray...
Страница 215 - Play on, play on ; I am with you there, In the midst of your merry ring ; I can feel the thrill of the daring jump, And the rush of the breathless swing. I hide with you in the fragrant hay, And I whoop the smothered call, And my feet slip up on the seedy floor, And I care not for the fall.
Страница 81 - Day was breaking When at the altar of the temple stood The holy priest of God. The incense lamp Burned with a struggling light, and a low chaunt Swelled through the hollow arches of the roof Like an articulate wail, and there, alone, Wasted to ghastly thinness, Helon knelt. The echoes of the melancholy strain Died in the distant aisles, and he rose up, Struggling with weakness, and bowed...
Страница 148 - Thou, whose exterior semblance doth belie Thy Soul's immensity; Thou best Philosopher, who yet dost keep Thy heritage, thou Eye among the blind, That, deaf and silent, read'st the eternal deep, Haunted for ever by the eternal mind,— Mighty Prophet!
Страница 198 - And, oh! when I am stricken, and my heart Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, How will its love for thee, as I depart, Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token!
Страница 194 - Their glassy rings beneath it, like the still, Unbroken beating of the sleeper's pulse. The reeds bent down the stream; the willow leaves, With a soft cheek upon the lulling tide, Forgot the lifting winds; and the long stems, Whose flowers the water, like a gentle nurse, Bears on its bosom, quietly gave way, And leaned in graceful attitudes to rest. How strikingly the course of nature tells, By its light heed of human suffering, That it was fashioned for a happier world!
Страница 217 - ... that she could not comprehend, And had not seen before. The purple folds Of the low sunset clouds, and the blue sky That looked so still and delicate above, Filled her young heart with gladness, and the eve Stole on with its deep shadows, and she still Stood looking at the west with that half smile, As if a pleasant thought were at her heart. " Presently, in the edge of the last tint Of sunset, where the blue was melted in To the faint golden mellowness, a star Stood suddenly. A laugh of wild...