The Literary SouvenirLongman, Rees, Orme, Brown & Green, 1830 |
No interior do livro
Resultados 1-5 de 55
Página xiii
... Morning Calls The Magic Glass . By Mrs. HEMANS The Smugglers ' Isle . A Tale of the Sea . By the Author of " Tales and Confessions " To Ianthe . By Lord BYRON Loch - Lomond . By the Rev. CHARLES HOYLE How can I sing ? 59 62 70 • 3332 73 ...
... Morning Calls The Magic Glass . By Mrs. HEMANS The Smugglers ' Isle . A Tale of the Sea . By the Author of " Tales and Confessions " To Ianthe . By Lord BYRON Loch - Lomond . By the Rev. CHARLES HOYLE How can I sing ? 59 62 70 • 3332 73 ...
Página 12
... morning , at sun - rise , Biddy was deeply em- ployed in the business of her dairy . Never did she milk her cows , or set her pans , or prepare her churns , with such alacrity and pleasure . A minute's idleness would have been torture ...
... morning , at sun - rise , Biddy was deeply em- ployed in the business of her dairy . Never did she milk her cows , or set her pans , or prepare her churns , with such alacrity and pleasure . A minute's idleness would have been torture ...
Página 13
... morning's work , as if it was not to be followed by the most important action of her life . The love - draught was at length prepared . A richly- frothing bowl of syllabub received the whole contents of Peg Morrin's paper . Biddy never ...
... morning's work , as if it was not to be followed by the most important action of her life . The love - draught was at length prepared . A richly- frothing bowl of syllabub received the whole contents of Peg Morrin's paper . Biddy never ...
Página 16
... morning , is still marked out by many a trace . Those who witnessed it , declared that aught so terrible had never met their view . All who had joined the huntsman stopped , in surprise at first , and afterwards in affright , as Lanty ...
... morning , is still marked out by many a trace . Those who witnessed it , declared that aught so terrible had never met their view . All who had joined the huntsman stopped , in surprise at first , and afterwards in affright , as Lanty ...
Página 18
... morning , with some sacks of flour for the Grange , found its pro- gress suddenly stopped on one of the shallows by a heavy substance looking white on the sand bank . On moving it with his pole , the body of poor Biddy Keenahan rose to ...
... morning , with some sacks of flour for the Grange , found its pro- gress suddenly stopped on one of the shallows by a heavy substance looking white on the sand bank . On moving it with his pole , the body of poor Biddy Keenahan rose to ...
Outras edições - Ver tudo
Palavras e frases frequentes
aid-de-camp ALARIC Anakims Angels Antonietta arms Beauchamp beautiful behold beneath Biddy Keenahan bless boat bosom breath brigands bright brow CAROLINE BOWLES CHARLES ROLLS cheek cheering cried dark daughter dead dear deep dreadful dream earth Ellen Engraved eyes fancy father fear feeling fell flowers gaze gentle girl glance gone grace hand happy hath heard heart heaven Hessians honour hope hour India paper ITHRAN J.M.W.Turner lady Lanty light lips living look Louisa Lowton mind morning Mortimer never Nicastro night o'er once Orme passed Peppè Tosco Pompeii poor Portraits ravelin Rolls round Rowena Scogan seemed sigh Sir A. D. Sir Walter Scott smile song soon soul spirit stood sure sweet tears teraphim thee thine thing THOMAS MOORE thou thought town Vanity Fair Vernet Villars voice waves wild wind wood words young youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 55 - Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: It fell upon a little western flower, Before milk-white, now purple with love's wound, And maidens call it Love-in-idleness.
Página 55 - Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee once: The juice of it on sleeping eyelids laid Will make or man or woman madly dote Upon the next live creature that it sees.
Página 323 - AT evening time, let there be light; Life's little day draws near its close ; Around me fall the shades of night, The night of death, the grave's repose ; To crown my joys, to end my woes, At evening time, let there be light.
Página 324 - At evening time there shall be light ! For God hath spoken ; it must be ; Fear, doubt, and anguish take their flight ; His glory now is risen on me ; Mine eyes shall his salvation see ; 'T is evening time, and there is light ! 991.
Página 359 - Your wheelings, dartings, divings, rambles, Your restless roving round and round The circuit of your crystal bound, — Is but the task of weary pain, An endless labour, dull and vain ; And while your forms are gaily shining Your little lives are inly pining ! Nay ! but still I fain would dream That ye are happy as ye seem, Deck'd in Oriental pride, By homely British fire-side.
Página 178 - I brought her, one morning, a rose for her brow ; Where is she gone, where is she gone ? She told me such horrors were never worn now : And I — am left all alone...
Página 320 - I never •was a favourite, My mother never smiled On me, with half the tenderness That blessed her fairer child : I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek, While fondled on her knee ; I've turned away, to hide my tears, There was no kiss for me!
Página 320 - I've seen her kiss my sister's cheek, While fondled on her knee ; I've turned away, to hide my tears, — There was no kiss for me ! And yet I strove to please with all My little store of sense ; I strove to please, and infancy Can rarely give offence ; But when my artless efforts met A cold ungentle check, I did not dare to throw myself In tears upon her neck ! How...
Página 201 - Not all alone, — the whispering trees, The rippling brook, the starry sky, — Have each peculiar harmonies, To soothe, subdue, and sanctify : The low, sweet breath of evening's sigh, For thee hath oft a friendly tone, To lift thy grateful thoughts on high...
Página 321 - I strove to please, with all My little store of sense ; I strove to please, and infancy Can rarely give offence ; But when my artless efforts met A cold, ungentle check, I did not dare to throw myself In tears upon her neck. How blessed are the beautiful ! Love watches o'er their birth ; Oh, beauty ! in my nursery I learned to know thy worth, — For even there I often felt Forsaken and forlorn, And wished — for others wished it too — I never had been born.