The Poetical Work of Mrs. Felicia Hemans, Volume 2Evert Duyckinck, 1828 - English poetry |
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Page vi
... of the Nile The Vaudois Valleys The Songs of our Fathers The Burial of William the Conqueror 125 • 126 127 128 130 132 The Sound of the Sea · 134 Casabianca The Adopted Child • 135 136 The Departed The Breeze from Land To one of the.
... of the Nile The Vaudois Valleys The Songs of our Fathers The Burial of William the Conqueror 125 • 126 127 128 130 132 The Sound of the Sea · 134 Casabianca The Adopted Child • 135 136 The Departed The Breeze from Land To one of the.
Page 13
... sound Was even like love's farewell - so mournfully profound . LV . The boy had dropp'd to slumber at our feet ; - - " And I have lull'd him to his smilling rest " Once more ! " she said : -I raised him - it was sweet , Yet sad , to see ...
... sound Was even like love's farewell - so mournfully profound . LV . The boy had dropp'd to slumber at our feet ; - - " And I have lull'd him to his smilling rest " Once more ! " she said : -I raised him - it was sweet , Yet sad , to see ...
Page 15
... sounds not , where the wrecks lie low , What shall wake thence the dead ? -Blest , blest are they That earth to earth intrust ; for they may know And tend the dwelling whence the slumberer's clay Shall rise at last , and bid the young ...
... sounds not , where the wrecks lie low , What shall wake thence the dead ? -Blest , blest are they That earth to earth intrust ; for they may know And tend the dwelling whence the slumberer's clay Shall rise at last , and bid the young ...
Page 17
... sounds , her foliage fann'd , And turn'd to seek the wilds of the red hunter's land . LXXI . And we have won a bower of refuge now , In this fresh waste , the breath of whose repose Hath cool'd , like dew , the fever of my brow , And ...
... sounds , her foliage fann'd , And turn'd to seek the wilds of the red hunter's land . LXXI . And we have won a bower of refuge now , In this fresh waste , the breath of whose repose Hath cool'd , like dew , the fever of my brow , And ...
Page 18
... sounds , as from the bed Of the blue mournful seas , that keep the dead : But they are far ! -the low sun here pervades Dim forest - arches , bathing with red gold Their stems , till each is made a marvel to behold , LXXIV . Gorgeous ...
... sounds , as from the bed Of the blue mournful seas , that keep the dead : But they are far ! -the low sun here pervades Dim forest - arches , bathing with red gold Their stems , till each is made a marvel to behold , LXXIV . Gorgeous ...
Common terms and phrases
Ali Pacha art thou banners beauty beneath BERNARDO DEL CARPIO blue blue streams bowers breast breath breeze bright bright land brow call'd cheek child dark dead death deep dreams dust dwell earth Eolian ev'n fade fair falchion farewell father flowers forest fount gaze gentle glance gleam gloom glorious glory glow gone grave green hath hear heard heart Heaven holy hour joyous Lake of Lucerne land leaves light lone look look'd lyre midst mirth mother mournful night o'er Odin Oronoco pale pass'd pines pour'd rest rills Rio verde rocks round Sea-king seem'd shades shadow shining shore silent sleep slumber smile soft solemn song soul sound spear spirit stars stranger's heart streams sunny sweet sword tears thee Theseus thine thou art Thou hast thought tomb tone tree trumpet unto voice wave weep wert wild wind woods wouldst young
Popular passages
Page 135 - THE boy stood on the burning deck Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm — A creature of heroic blood, A proud, though childlike form.
Page 115 - Leaves have their time to fall, And flowers to wither at the north wind's breath, And stars to set — but all, Thou hast all seasons for thine own, O Death...
Page 86 - I COME, I come! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song; Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose .stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Page 111 - O'er each fair sleeping brow, She had each folded flower in sight — Where are those dreamers now? One midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream, is laid ; The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep, He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.
Page 88 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed, And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er. When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted came; Not with the roll of stirring drums And the trumpet that sings of fame; Not as the flying come In silence and in fear, They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Page 194 - Not there, not there, my child." Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies, Or 'midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange bright birds, on their starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things ? " Not there, not there, my child.
Page 84 - England's dead. The warlike of the isles, The men of field and wave '• Are not the rocks their funeral piles, The seas and shores their grave ' Go, stranger ! track the deep, Free, free the white sail spread Wave may not foam, nor wild wind sweep, Where rest not England's dead.
Page 137 - Yet not to thine eternal resting-place Shalt thou retire alone — nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre.
Page 194 - Not there, not there, my child! " Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy! Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy; Dreams cannot picture a world so fair, — Sorrow and death may not enter there ; Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom ; Far beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb — It is there, it is there, my child !
Page 68 - Yet more ! the billows and the depths have more ! High hearts and brave are gathered to thy breast ! They hear not now the booming waters roar, The battle-thunders will not break their rest. Keep thy red gold and gems, thou stormy grave...