Lillian and Other PoemsRedfield, 1852 - 290 pages |
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Page 32
... . In horror of another session , You just surrender at discretion , And live to curse the frauds of mothers , And envy all your younger brothers . Count Otto bowed , Count Otto smiled , When My 32 THE BRIDAL OF BELMONT .
... . In horror of another session , You just surrender at discretion , And live to curse the frauds of mothers , And envy all your younger brothers . Count Otto bowed , Count Otto smiled , When My 32 THE BRIDAL OF BELMONT .
Page 33
Winthrop Mackworth Praed Rufus Wilmot Griswold. Count Otto bowed , Count Otto smiled , When My Lady praised her darling child ; Count Otto smiled , Count Otto bowed , When the child those praises disavowed ; As a knight should gaze Count ...
Winthrop Mackworth Praed Rufus Wilmot Griswold. Count Otto bowed , Count Otto smiled , When My Lady praised her darling child ; Count Otto smiled , Count Otto bowed , When the child those praises disavowed ; As a knight should gaze Count ...
Page 34
... Count Otto Left Lady Hildegonde's ridotto . What melody glides o'er the star - lit stream ? " Lurley ! Lurley ! " Angels of grace ! does the young Count dream ? " Lurley ! Lurley ! " Or is the scene indeed so fair That a nymph of the ...
... Count Otto Left Lady Hildegonde's ridotto . What melody glides o'er the star - lit stream ? " Lurley ! Lurley ! " Angels of grace ! does the young Count dream ? " Lurley ! Lurley ! " Or is the scene indeed so fair That a nymph of the ...
Page 35
... Count to say ; But pale are his cheeks and pained his brow , And the boat drifts on he recks not how ; His pulse is quick and his heart is wild , And he weeps , he weeps , like a little child . Oh mighty music ! they who know The ...
... Count to say ; But pale are his cheeks and pained his brow , And the boat drifts on he recks not how ; His pulse is quick and his heart is wild , And he weeps , he weeps , like a little child . Oh mighty music ! they who know The ...
Page 38
... Count Otto stares till his eyelids ache , And wonders when she ' ll please to wake ; While Fancy whispers strange suggestions , And Wonder prompts a score of questions . Is she a nymph of another sphere ? Whence came she hither ? -what ...
... Count Otto stares till his eyelids ache , And wonders when she ' ll please to wake ; While Fancy whispers strange suggestions , And Wonder prompts a score of questions . Is she a nymph of another sphere ? Whence came she hither ? -what ...
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Common terms and phrases
Abbess ANDRE CHENIER ARSENE HOUSSAYE Athens beautiful Beneath bliss blue bower breath bright Bronchitis brow charm cheek clasp cold Count Otto courser dance dark delight Digore dragon dream earth engravings Entomology Episodes of Insect exquisite eyes faded fair fancy fat friars fear feel flings flowers fond friends gaze glow grace grave grief hair hand hath heard heart heaven Henry Nelson Coleridge hope hour humor illustrated insect world John Moultrie lady laugh light lips lonely look Lord lover Lurley lute maiden Muse nature never night Nonny numbers o'er pale passion Peyrouse praise prayer quadrille reader Redfield rhyme rose sigh silent sing sleep smile song soul style sweet taste tears tell thee thine thou thought to-day to-night tone TRINITY COLLEGE typography Vidal voice VOLTAIRE volume wander weep wild WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED written young youth
Popular passages
Page 125 - And nothings for Sylvanus Urban. He did not think all mischief fair, Although he had a knack of joking; He did not make himself a bear, Although he had a taste for smoking. And when religious sects ran mad He held, in spite of all his learning, That if a man's belief is bad It will not be improved by burning.
Page 134 - 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 How sweetly all her notes were folded I Our love was like most other loves — A little glow, a little shiver, A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And
Page 174 - No!' If he wears a top-boot in his wooing, If he comes to you riding a cob, If he talks of his baking or brewing, If he puts up his feet on the hob, 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 131 - There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old hall Of hands across and down the middle, Hers was the subtlest spell by far Of all that...
Page 132 - My father frowned; but how should gout See any happiness in kneeling? She was the daughter of a dean, Rich, fat, and rather apoplectic; She had one brother just thirteen, Whose color was extremely hectic; Her grandmother, for many a year, Had fed the parish with her bounty; Her second cousin was a peer, And lord-lieutenant of the county.
Page 46 - Sounds seemed dropping from the skies. Stifled whispers, smothered sighs, And the breath of vernal gales, And the voice of nightingales : But the nightingales were mute, Envious, when an unseen lute Shaped the music of its chords Into passion's thrilling words. ' Smile, lady, smile ! — I will not set Upon my brow the coronet, Till thou wilt gather roses white, To wear around its gems of light.
Page 42 - The hungry and keen on the top are leaping, The lazy and fat in the depths are sleeping; Fishing is fine when the pool is muddy, Broiling is rich when the coals are ruddy!' In a monstrous fright, by the murky light, He looked to the left and he looked to the right, And what was the vision close before him, That flung such a sudden stupor o'er him?
Page 123 - Had turned our parish topsy-turvy, When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste, And roads as little known as scurvy, The man who lost his way, between St. Mary's Hill and Sandy Thicket, Was always shown across the green, And guided to the Parson's wicket. Back flew the bolt of lissom lath; Fair Margaret, in her tidy kirtle, Led the lorn traveller up the path, Through...
Page 256 - Fling high the flambeau's light, And sing the hymn for a parted soul Beneath the silent night ! The wreath upon his head, The cross upon his breast, Let the prayer be said and the tear be shed, So, — take him to his rest ! Call ye my whole, — ay, call The lord of lute and lay ; And let him greet the sable pall With a noble song to-day. Go, call him by his name ! No fitter hand may crave To light the flame of a soldier's fame On the turf of a soldier's grave.
Page 132 - And then she danced, — oh, heaven, her dancing! 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.