The Poetical Works of Winthrop Mackworth PraedH. G. Langley, 1844 - 287 pages |
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Page 19
... rose all weeping . 19 " Thou hast lopped , " she said , " beshrew thine hand ! — The fairest foot in faery land ! " Thou hast an infant in thine home ! Never to her shall reason come , For weeping or for wail , Till she shall ride with ...
... rose all weeping . 19 " Thou hast lopped , " she said , " beshrew thine hand ! — The fairest foot in faery land ! " Thou hast an infant in thine home ! Never to her shall reason come , For weeping or for wail , Till she shall ride with ...
Page 46
... roses or rocks to - night ? 66 Lurley ! Lurley ! " Words there are none ; but the waves prolong The notes of that mysterious song : He listens , and listens , and all around Ripple the echoes of that sweet sound- " Lurley ! Lurley ...
... roses or rocks to - night ? 66 Lurley ! Lurley ! " Words there are none ; but the waves prolong The notes of that mysterious song : He listens , and listens , and all around Ripple the echoes of that sweet sound- " Lurley ! Lurley ...
Page 48
... rose , He woke in wonder from repose , The river was calm as the river could be , And the thrush was awake on the gladsome tree , And there he lay , in a sunny cave , On the margin of the tranquil wave , Half deaf with that infernal din ...
... rose , He woke in wonder from repose , The river was calm as the river could be , And the thrush was awake on the gladsome tree , And there he lay , in a sunny cave , On the margin of the tranquil wave , Half deaf with that infernal din ...
Page 54
... rose was shed , And her quickened pulse began to speak Of human hope and dread ! And soon she grasped the learned lore The old gray pedant taught , And turned from the volume to explore The hidden mine of thought . Alas ! her bliss was ...
... rose was shed , And her quickened pulse began to speak Of human hope and dread ! And soon she grasped the learned lore The old gray pedant taught , And turned from the volume to explore The hidden mine of thought . Alas ! her bliss was ...
Page 58
... was marble stone , And the bridesmaid her hand could hardly hold , Its fingers were so icy cold . Rose Count Otto from the feast , As entered the hall the hoary priest . A stalwart warrior , well I ween , That hoary 58 PRAED'S POEMS .
... was marble stone , And the bridesmaid her hand could hardly hold , Its fingers were so icy cold . Rose Count Otto from the feast , As entered the hall the hoary priest . A stalwart warrior , well I ween , That hoary 58 PRAED'S POEMS .
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Common terms and phrases
Abbess abbot Araminta beauty Beneath bliss blue bowers breath bright brow charm cheek clasp Clotilda cold Count Otto courser dance dark Digore dragon dream earth eyes faded fair Fare thee fat friars father fear flings flowers fond frown gazed glance glow gout grew hair half hand hath heard heart heaven hour John Moultrie kiss lady laughed light Lillian lips locks lonely look Lord lover Lurley lute maid maiden minstrel never night Nonny Nonny nought numbers o'er pain pale passion pray prayer quadrille Rhine rose Rossini rove sigh silent sing Sir Harry Sir Isumbras sleep smile song sorrow soul spell steed sweet tail talked tears tell thine thou thought to-day to-night tone tree Troubadour Twas unconscious sleep Vidal voice wake waking eye wander weary ween weep whispered wild wine WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED young youth
Popular passages
Page 221 - If he speaks of a tax or a duty, If he does not look grand on his knees, If he's blind to a landscape of beauty — Hills, valleys, rocks, waters and trees, If he dotes not on desolate towers, If he likes not to hear the blast blow, If he knows not the language of flowers, My own Araminta, say
Page 191 - She smiled on many just for fun, — I knew that there was nothing in it; I was the first, — the only one, Her heart had thought of for a minute. I knew it; for she told me so, In phrase which was divinely moulded; She wrote a charming hand, — and oh!
Page 189 - My mother laughed ; I soon found out That ancient ladies have no feeling : My father frowned ; but how should gout See any happiness in...
Page 220 - If he ever drinks port after dinner, If his brow or his breeding is low, If he calls himself 'Thompson' or 'Skinner', My own Araminta, say 'No!
Page 176 - And warmed himself in court or college, He had not gained an honest friend, And twenty curious scraps of knowledge ;— If he departed as he came, With no new light on love or liquor,— Good sooth, the traveller was to blame, And not the Vicarage, or the Vicar.
Page 75 - And rocks whose very crags seem bowers, So gay they are with grass and flowers. But the Abbot was thinking of scenery, About as much, in sooth, As a lover thinks of constancy, Or an advocate of truth. He did not mark how the skies in wrath Grew dark above his head ; He did not mark how the mossy path Grew damp beneath his tread ; And nearer he came, and still more near, To a pool, in whose recess The water had slept for many a year, Unchanged, and motionless ; From the river stream it spread...
Page 187 - Dark was her hair, her hand was white ; Her voice was exquisitely tender ; Her eyes were full of liquid light ; I never saw a waist so slender ! Her every look, her every smile, Shot right and left a score of arrows ; I thought 'twas Venus from her isle, And wondered where she'd left her sparrows.
Page 74 - Companionless, for a mile or more, He traced the windings of the shore. Oh, beauteous is that river still, As it winds by many a sloping hill, And many a dim o'er-arching grove, And many a flat and sunny cove, And terraced lawns whose bright arcades The honey-suckle sweetly shades, And rocks whose very crags seem bowers, So gay they are with grass and flowers.
Page 221 - No!" He must walk like a god of old story, Come down from the home of his rest; He must smile like the sun in his glory, On the buds he loves ever the best ; And, oh ! from its ivory portal, Like music his soft speech must flow ! — If he speak, smile, or walk like a mortal, My own Araminta, say "No!
Page 179 - At his approach complaint grew mild, And when his hand unbarred the shutter, The clammy lips of fever smiled The welcome which they could not utter. He always had a tale for me Of Julius Caesar or of Venus : From him I learned the rule of three, Cat's cradle, leap-frog, and qua genus; I used to singe his powdered wig, To steal the staff he put such trust in ; And make the puppy dance a jig When he began to quote Augustine.