Florence, Volume 5611858 |
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Page 3
... cried the little girl eagerly . " When Carlos sprained his shoulder , poor fellow ! you told me that I must sacrifice my selfish pleasure , and must not ride for a long time . And I did not ride for a whole month . I understand you ...
... cried the little girl eagerly . " When Carlos sprained his shoulder , poor fellow ! you told me that I must sacrifice my selfish pleasure , and must not ride for a long time . And I did not ride for a whole month . I understand you ...
Page 7
... cried , " this is your cousin Herbert . 66 ' Sdeath , " he exclaimed , suddenly drawing back , " I ought to remember the injured dignity of the Dudleys . I forget that I am a forsworn , lopped - off branch of that noble house . My ...
... cried , " this is your cousin Herbert . 66 ' Sdeath , " he exclaimed , suddenly drawing back , " I ought to remember the injured dignity of the Dudleys . I forget that I am a forsworn , lopped - off branch of that noble house . My ...
Page 18
... cried , and the eyes brimmed over . She looked up timidly into the Doctor's face , - " Must we leave home ? must we lose everything ? I cannot part with my pony and my flowers . " " Florence , listen to me . At the call of honour your ...
... cried , and the eyes brimmed over . She looked up timidly into the Doctor's face , - " Must we leave home ? must we lose everything ? I cannot part with my pony and my flowers . " " Florence , listen to me . At the call of honour your ...
Page 24
... cried , springing forward and dropping the flowers , in her eagerness , 66 will you be kind to Carlos ? " " On the word of a gentleman , I will , " was the gallant reply . " I do not know who Carlos is , " he added , with a merry laugh ...
... cried , springing forward and dropping the flowers , in her eagerness , 66 will you be kind to Carlos ? " " On the word of a gentleman , I will , " was the gallant reply . " I do not know who Carlos is , " he added , with a merry laugh ...
Page 25
... cried the startled nobleman , " what will become of that sweet pretty creature , your daughter ? " " Leave the room , Florence , " said Mr. Dudley , in a slight tone of asperity , which astonished the little lady , for she had not heard ...
... cried the startled nobleman , " what will become of that sweet pretty creature , your daughter ? " " Leave the room , Florence , " said Mr. Dudley , in a slight tone of asperity , which astonished the little lady , for she had not heard ...
Common terms and phrases
admiration arms Augusta beauty bitter blessed blushed bride bright charms cheek child Colonel colour cottage countenance cried Florence Dark Ladie daughter Doctor door drew Dudley's Emrys Castle Evelyn faint fair father favourite fear feeling fell Florence Dudley Florence rose Florence's eyes flowers gentleman gently Geraldine Percival girl glance grace Greville Beaumont hand happy head heart Heaven Herbert Dudley heroine heroine's honour hour JAMES BLACKWOOD Lady Caroline Lady Cecilia Lady Geraldine Lady Illington Lady Mary Temple Lady Wentworth ladyship laughed Leicester light lingered lips looked Lord Glenorme Lord Ullswater Lord Wentworth Madoc Maiden's Tower mamma marriage Miss Dudley Miss Seymour morning mother murmured never night noble pale papa passed paused Phoebe poor pride Puck Rector rence reply rose sighed silence smile spirit spoke stood sweet tears thee thou tion tone trembling truth turned voice Wentworth Castle Wilderness words young lady دو
Popular passages
Page 8 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Page 188 - Light quirks of music, broken and uneven, Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven. On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre, On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, And bring all paradise before your eye.
Page 60 - What soul was his, when, from the naked top Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun Rise up, and bathe the world in light...
Page 94 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face; That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Page 1 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand ! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Page 50 - With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land. I told her how he pined: and ah! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love, Interpreted my own.
Page 85 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Page 11 - The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more! And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again ; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain ! But when I speak— thou dost not say What thou ne'er...
Page 211 - Mortals, that would follow me, Love Virtue ; she alone is free. She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her.
Page 79 - The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife, That owned the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar king did ride; And if aught else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of turneys, and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.