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abbey ancient antiquity aunts baron beauty Boar's Head bosom bustling castle Chancer charm Christmas church cottage countenance crowd Dame Van Winkle deep delight distant door earth Eastcheap elegant England English enjoyment Falstaff fancy feeling fire of London flowers fond friends funeral gaze George Somers gloomy grave green hand heard heart hour humble Jack Straw kind lady living look Maid's Tragedy meditation melancholy mind mingled mnch monument mouldering mountain nature neighbouring never noble Odenwald once passed pleasure poem poet poetical poor pride prodnces quarto quiet racter Rip Van Winkle Robert Preston round rural sawtrie scene seemed sepulchre sigh silent snch solemn sorrow soul spectre spirit story strnck sweet tavern tender thing thought tion tomb tonching tower trees turn verger village wandering Wat Tyler whole wife William Walworth window writers Wurtzburg young
Página 41 - The name of the child, the air of the mother, the tone of her voice, all awakened a train of recollections in his mind. "What is your name, my good woman?
Página 39 - Nicholas Vedder?" There was a silence for a little while, when an old man replied, in a thin, piping voice, "Nicholas Vedder! why, he is dead and gone these eighteen years! There was a wooden tombstone in the churchyard that used to tell all about him, but that's rotten and gone too.
Página 32 - ... impending cliffs, and scarcely lighted by the reflected rays of the setting sun. For some time Rip lay musing on this scene; evening was gradually advancing; the mountains began to throw their long blue shadows over the valleys; he saw that it would be dark long before he could reach the village, and he heaved a heavy sigh when he thought of encountering the terrors of Dame Van Winkle. As he was about to descend, he heard a voice from a distance, hallooing, "Rip Van Winkle! Rip Van Winkle!
Página 171 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, This bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dares stir abroad ; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, No fairy takes ', nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Página 129 - Lay a garland on my hearse, Of the dismal yew; Maidens, willow branches bear; Say I died true: My love was false, but I was firm From my hour of birth. Upon my buried body lie Lightly, gentle earth!
Página 42 - Half-moon, being permitted in this way to revisit the scenes of his enterprise, and keep a guardian eye upon the river, and the great city called by his name ; that his father had once seen them in their old Dutch dresses playing at ninepins in a hollow of the mountain ; and that he himself had heard, one summer afternoon, the sound of their balls, like distant peals of thunder.
Página 134 - If thou art a child, and hast ever added a sorrow to the soul, or a furrow to the silvered brow of an affectionate parent; if thou art a husband, and hast ever caused the fond bosom that ventured its whole happiness in thy arms to doubt one moment of thy kindness or thy truth...
Página 34 - What seemed particularly odd to Rip was, that though these folks were evidently amusing themselves, yet they maintained the gravest faces, the most mysterious silence, and were, withal, the most melancholy party of pleasure he had ever witnessed. Nothing interrupted the stillness of the scene but the noise of the balls, which, whenever they were rolled, echoed along the mountains like rumbling peals of thunder.
Página 31 - When anything that was read or related displeased him, he was observed to smoke his pipe vehemently, and to send forth short, frequent, and angry puffs ; but when pleased, he would...
Página 38 - Instead of the great tree that used to shelter the quiet little Dutch inn of yore, there now was reared a tall naked pole, with something on the top that looked like a red nightcap, and from it was fluttering a flag, on which was a singular assemblage of stars and stripes — all this was strange and incomprehensible.