The works of mrs Hemans; with a memoir of her life, by her sister [H.M. Owen].

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Страница 124 - Is it far away in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold — Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine, And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand — Is it there, sweet mother, that better land...
Страница 123 - I HEAR thee speak of the better land, Thou call'st its children a happy band ; Mother! oh, where is that radiant shore? Shall we not seek it, and weep no more? Is it where the flower of the orange blows, And the fire-flies glance through the myrtle boughs...
Страница 123 - midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange bright birds on their starry wings Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ? Not there, not there, my child.
Страница 46 - Father!" at length he murmured low, and wept like childhood then; Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men! He thought on all his glorious hopes, and all his young renown ; He flung the falchion from his side, and in the dust sat down. Then covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow: "No more, there is no more...
Страница 298 - All this hath somewhat worn me, and may wear, But must be borne. I stoop not to despair ; For I have battled with mine agony, And made me wings wherewith to overfly The narrow circus of my dungeon wall...
Страница 65 - Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence : Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy ; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being...
Страница 105 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain. Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and wat'ry depths; all these have vanished ; They live no longer in the faith of reason!
Страница 190 - tis well to be fled and gone, — As of a bird from a chain unbound, — As of a wanderer whose home is found, — So let it be.
Страница 50 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Страница 48 - Into these glassy eyes put light — be still ! keep down thine ire, Bid these white lips a blessing speak — this earth is not my sire ! Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was shed, — Thou canst not ? — and a king ! — his dust be mountains on thy head!

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