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Alcala angel ANGELICA art thou BALTASAR BARTOLOME beautiful behold Beltran Cruzado Beware birds blessed breast breath bright brooklet cachucha child CHISPA clouds Count of Lara dance dark dead Death Dolores DON CARLOS Don Dinero Dost thou doth dream earth Enter Exeunt eyes fair father fear flowers Francisco gentle Gipsy girl gleams gold golden grave hand hear heart heaven holy HYPOLITO Jorge Manrique land leaves Life's light lips look LOPE DE VEGA Luck of Edenhall Madrid maiden Martina midnight moon night o'er PADRE CURA PEDRO CRESPO Pentecost poem Pray prayer PRECIOSA red planet Mars ring rise Saint SCENE shadows silent silver sing sleep smile soft song soul sound speak star stood sweet tears tell thee thine thou art thou hast thou shalt Timoneda unto VICTORIAN village voice wait wave weary wild wind woods youth
Страница 16 - And with them the Being Beauteous, Who unto my youth was given, More than all things else to love me, And is now a saint in heaven. With a slow and noiseless footstep Comes that messenger divine, Takes the vacant chair beside me, Lays her gentle hand in mine. And she sits and gazes at me With those deep and tender eyes, Like the stars, so still and saint-like, Looking downward from the skies.
Страница 9 - He gazed at the flowers with tearful eyes, He kissed their drooping leaves ; It was for the Lord of Paradise He bound them in his sheaves. "My Lord has need of these flowerets gay," The Reaper said, and smiled; "Dear tokens of the earth are they, Where He was once a child.
Страница 270 - Dark lowers the tempest overhead, The roaring torrent is deep and wide!" And loud that clarion voice replied, Excelsior ! "Oh stay," the maiden said, "and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!
Страница 27 - Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll ; They are chanting solemn masses, Singing ; " Pray for this poor soul, Pray, — pray ! " And the hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain...
Страница 141 - INTO the Silent Land ! Ah ! who shall lead us thither ? Clouds in the evening sky more darkly gather, And shattered wrecks lie thicker on the strand. Who leads us with a gentle hand Thither, O thither, Into the Silent Land...
Страница 186 - And ever the fitful gusts between A sound came from the land ; It was the sound of the trampling surf On the rocks and the hard sea-sand. The breakers were right beneath her bows, She drifted a dreary wreck, And a whooping billow swept the crew Like icicles from her deck.
Страница 181 - Still grew my bosom then, Still as a stagnant fen! Hateful to me were men, The sunlight hateful! In the vast forest here, Clad in my warlike gear, Fell I upon my spear, Oh, death was grateful!
Страница 15 - WHEN the hours of Day are numbered, And the voices of the Night Wake the better soul, that slumbered, To a holy, calm delight ; Ere the evening lamps are lighted, And, like phantoms grim and tall, Shadows from the fitful firelight Dance upon the parlor wall ; Then the forms of the departed Enter at the open door ; The beloved, the true-hearted, Come to visit me once more ; He, the young and strong, who cherished Noble longings for the strife, By the roadside fell and perished, Weary with the march...