The cabinet; or The selected beauties of literature [ed. by J. Aitken]., Volume 1Includes poetry and prose, chiefly by contemporary writers, including Shelley, Byron, Hunt, Scott, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey, and many others. |
From inside the book
Results 6-10 of 100
Page 4
... hour the house was buried in sleep . The stranger alone was wakeful . Not for several years had he been so happy as ... hours ago had been as loud as the sea , was now not only hushed in the breathing re- pose of nature , but all ...
... hour the house was buried in sleep . The stranger alone was wakeful . Not for several years had he been so happy as ... hours ago had been as loud as the sea , was now not only hushed in the breathing re- pose of nature , but all ...
Page 8
... hours ago he was an interest- ing stranger about to pass away into oblivion - now he was one whom they could never forget - and whom they both felt must be for ever regarded by them , now that the first startling agony was over , with ...
... hours ago he was an interest- ing stranger about to pass away into oblivion - now he was one whom they could never forget - and whom they both felt must be for ever regarded by them , now that the first startling agony was over , with ...
Page 10
... hours of a sweet and human happiness were now often his ; for he walked with fair Mary Stewart alone , or with her mother , through coverts by the streamlet's banks along green meadow - fields - glades where the young fawn might be seen ...
... hours of a sweet and human happiness were now often his ; for he walked with fair Mary Stewart alone , or with her mother , through coverts by the streamlet's banks along green meadow - fields - glades where the young fawn might be seen ...
Page 11
... hour was come in which he must take his departure , for some months , from Glen - Creran . Mary Stewart , except the year she had lived abroad with her mother after her brother's death , had led a solitary life in the Highlands . Her ...
... hour was come in which he must take his departure , for some months , from Glen - Creran . Mary Stewart , except the year she had lived abroad with her mother after her brother's death , had led a solitary life in the Highlands . Her ...
Page 12
... hours , though they seemed to linger cruelly , at last had chased one another down the channel of time , like the waters of a changeful rivulet ; and the morning of Mary Stewart's wedding - day shone over Glen - Creran . A happy day it ...
... hours , though they seemed to linger cruelly , at last had chased one another down the channel of time , like the waters of a changeful rivulet ; and the morning of Mary Stewart's wedding - day shone over Glen - Creran . A happy day it ...
Other editions - View all
Common terms and phrases
affection Agenor Alberti Amelia Ansaldo appeared archbishop of Riga arms beautiful behold Bianca bosom breast breath bright burgomaster church countenance dark daugh daughter dead dear death dream ducats earth Egyptian hieroglyphics Ernest Evaline eyes father fear feelings felt flowers frae gaze Genovino gentle Gianetto grave hand happy hath head heard heart heaven honour hope hour husband Julia Kilmeny knew lady leave light live looked Lord Ludovico Sforza Marano Mary Stewart Masaniello Melmoth mind morning mother mountains nature never night o'er once Oneyo passed passion poor replied returned Rosario rose rose-tree round Samian wine scene seemed sigh silent sleep smile soon sorrow soul sound spirit St Bridget stood stranger sweet tears tell tender thee thing thou thought tion took trembling turned Venice viceroy voice walk wife wild wind words young youth
Popular passages
Page 72 - The mountains look on Marathon — And Marathon looks on the sea ; And musing there an hour alone, I dreamed that Greece might still be free ; For standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ; And ships, by thousands, lay below, And men in nations — all were his ! He counted them at break of day — And when the sun set, where were they?
Page 387 - It ceased ; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 414 - Away ! away ! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards : Already with thee ! tender is the night, And haply the queen-moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry fays...
Page 382 - Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot; O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea! About, about, in reel and rout, The death-fires danced at night: The water, like a witch's oils, Burnt green, and blue, and white.
Page 386 - The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The Moon was at its side: Like waters shot" from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide.
Page 386 - The upper air burst into life, And a hundred fire-flags sheen To and fro they were hurried about ; And to and fro, and in and out The wan stars danced between.
Page 391 - And fell down in a fit; The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit. I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. "Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row.
Page 414 - Darkling I listen; and for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy!
Page 384 - I fear thee, ancient Mariner! I fear thy skinny hand! And thou art long, and lank, and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand. I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand so brown.
Page 268 - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove : O, no ! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken ; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth "s unknown, although his height be taken.