And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve! She leaned against the armed man, The statue of the armed knight; She stood and listened to my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! She... Prolusiones - Страница 8по Marlborough coll - 1867Пълен достъп - Информация за книгата
| Cabinet - 1824 - 440 страници
...cruel wrongs Befel the Dark Ladie. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope, my joy, my Genevieve, She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. . , All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers... | |
| 1826 - 434 страници
...to my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story— An old rude song, that suited well... | |
| sir Walter Scott (bart [prose, collected]) - 1827 - 500 страници
...love the tales which call forth a * Few sorrows hath she of her own. My hope, my joy, my Genevieve ; She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. LOVE. sympathy for which their own feelings give little occasion; while others, exhausted by the actual... | |
| British poets - 1828 - 838 страници
...ray lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Gcnevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I plny'da soft and doleful air, I Mini; ,ni old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well... | |
| Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1828 - 374 страници
...light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er 1 sing The songs that make her grieve. I played a soft and doleful air, 1 sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She... | |
| 1828 - 514 страници
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hopo ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her griere. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — And old rude song that... | |
| Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1829 - 400 страници
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that...rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a Sitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could... | |
| Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1829 - 575 страници
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own. My hope! my joy! my Generievc ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well... | |
| 1829 - 558 страници
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well... | |
| Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1831 - 628 страници
...cruel wrongs Befell the Dark Ladie. Few Sorrows halb she of her own. My hope, my joy, my Geneviève ! x All thoughts, all passions, all delights. Whatever stir this mortal frame, All are but ministers of... | |
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