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The Works of Mrs. Hemans, with a Memoir by Her Sister, and an Essay on Her ...
Visualização integral - 1840
Abbotsford affectionate affections alluded amidst amongst beautiful blessed boys breath bright Bronwylfa brother called character dark dear death deep delight Dublin enjoyment excitement expression eyes fame father favourite fear feeling FELICIA HEMANS flowers genius Grasmere grave green happy hath heart heaven Hemans Hemans's hope imagination impression interest Jack Hatch Joanna Baillie kind kindly land late letter Liverpool look Lord Byron lyre memory mind mother mountain nature never night noble º º o'er passed pleasure poem poet poetic poetry racter recollection repose River Clwyd Robert Liston scarcely scene Scotland seems Sir David Wedderburn Sir Walter Sir Walter Scott sister solemn song sonnet sorrow soul spirit strong suffering sweet taste tears thee thine things thou thought tion tone voice volume waters Wavertree wild wish words Wordsworth writings written wrote wylfa
Página 197 - Where slaves once more their native land behold, No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold. To Be, contents his natural desire, He asks no Angel's wing, no Seraph's fire; But thinks, admitted to that equal sky, His faithful dog shall bear him company.
Página 107 - His steps are not upon thy paths— thy fields Are not a spoil for him— thou dost arise And shake him from thee ; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay.
Página 308 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Página 219 - Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard Celestial voices, to the midnight air, Sole, or responsive...
Página 274 - In darkness, and amid the many shapes Of joyless daylight; when the fretful stir Unprofitable, and the fever of the world, Have hung upon the beatings of my heart, How oft, in spirit, have I turned to thee, O sylvan Wye! Thou wanderer thro' the woods, How often has my spirit turned to thee!
Página 39 - SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn: A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Página 311 - Towards spire and tower, midst shadowy elms ascending, Whence the sweet chimes proclaim the hallowed day ! The halls from old heroic ages grey Pour their fair children forth ; and hamlets low, With whose thick orchard-blooms the soft winds play, Send out their inmates in a happy flow, Like a freed vernal stream.
Página 267 - I AM not One who much or oft delight To season my fireside with personal talk, — Of friends, who live within an easy walk, Or neighbours, daily, weekly, in my sight : And, for my chance-acquaintance, ladies bright, Sons, mothers, maidens withering on the stalk, These all wear out of me, like Forms, with chalk Painted on rich men's floors, for one feast-night. Better than such discourse doth silence long, Long, barren silence...
Página 312 - Send out their inmates in a happy flow, . Like a freed vernal stream; I may not tread With them those pathways — to the feverish bed Of sickness bound ; yet, O my God ! I bless Thy mercy, that with Sabbath peace hath fill'd My chasten'd heart, and all its throbbings still'd To one deep calm of lowliest thankfulness.