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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 DON CARLOS Don Dinero Dost thou doth dream earth Enter Exeunt eyes fair faith 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 maiden Martina midnight night Nils Juel o'er PADRE CURA PEDRO CRESPO Pentecost poem Pray prayer PRECIOSA red planet Mars ring rise Saint SCENE shadow SHEPHERD silent silver sing sleep 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 5 - TELL me not, in mournful numbers, "Life is but an empty dream ! " For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real ! Life is earnest ! And the -grave is not its goal ; "Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
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 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 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...
Страница 265 - MAIDEN ! with the meek, brown eyes, In whose orbs a shadow lies Like the dusk in evening skies ! Thou whose locks outshine the sun, Golden tresses, wreathed in one, As the braided streamlets run ! Standing, with reluctant feet, Where the brook and river meet, Womanhood and childhood fleet...
Страница 277 - BESIDE the ungathered rice he lay, His sickle in his hand; His breast was bare, his matted hair Was buried in the sand. Again, in the mist and shadow of sleep, He saw his Native Land.
Страница 178 - Then launched they to the blast, Bent like a reed each mast, Yet we were gaining fast, When the wind failed us ; And with a sudden flaw Came round the gusty Skaw, So that our foe we saw Laugh as he hailed us. " And as to catch the gale Round veered the flapping sail, Death ! was the helmsman's hail, Death without quarter...
Страница 12 - Within my breast there is no light, But the cold light of stars ; 1 give the first watch of the night To the red planet Mars. The star of the unconquered will, He rises in my breast, Serene, and resolute, and still, And calm, and self-possessed.
Страница 171 - SPEAK! speak! thou fearful guest! Who, with thy hollow breast Still in rude armor drest, Comest to daunt me ! Wrapt not in Eastern balms, But with thy fleshless palms Stretched, as if asking alms, Why dost thou haunt me ? " Then, from those cavernous eyes Pale flashes seemed to rise, As when the Northern skies Gleam in December ; And, like the water's flow Under December's snow, Came a dull voice of woe From the heart's chamber. " I was a Viking old ! My deeds, though manifold, No...
Страница ix - PLEASANT it was, when woods were green, And winds were soft and low, To lie amid some sylvan scene, Where, the long drooping boughs between, Shadows dark and sunlight sheen Alternate come and go ; Or where the denser grove receives No sunlight from above, But the dark foliage interweaves In one unbroken roof of leaves, Underneath whose sloping eaves The shadows hardly move.