Gems of Thought, and Flowers of FancyRichard Wright Procter Partridge, 1855 - 428 páginas |
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Página 21
... died ? And still they come , and still they go , And still there is no end , - The hungry grave is yawning yet , And who shall next descend ? Oh ! shall it be a crown'd head , Or one of noble line ? Or doth the slayer turn to smite A ...
... died ? And still they come , and still they go , And still there is no end , - The hungry grave is yawning yet , And who shall next descend ? Oh ! shall it be a crown'd head , Or one of noble line ? Or doth the slayer turn to smite A ...
Página 22
... died as they had lived , in the station to which they were born , and which an insurmountable bar- rier appeared to prevent their passing . There is more in fortune and circumstances than we are willing to acknow- ledge . They lifted ...
... died as they had lived , in the station to which they were born , and which an insurmountable bar- rier appeared to prevent their passing . There is more in fortune and circumstances than we are willing to acknow- ledge . They lifted ...
Página 23
... died , leaving his widow unprovided for , with an only son , George Canning , the illustrious subject of this memoir , then only twelve months old . In so unpromising a manner was this great man ushered into life ; such the evil fortune ...
... died , leaving his widow unprovided for , with an only son , George Canning , the illustrious subject of this memoir , then only twelve months old . In so unpromising a manner was this great man ushered into life ; such the evil fortune ...
Página 25
... died in 1788 , and left him nothing . His mother could with difficulty keep herself . There is some dubious sort of story of a sum of £ 200 per annum , charged on the paternal estate on the cutting off of the entail ; but of this there ...
... died in 1788 , and left him nothing . His mother could with difficulty keep herself . There is some dubious sort of story of a sum of £ 200 per annum , charged on the paternal estate on the cutting off of the entail ; but of this there ...
Página 29
... I - they know not what is grief Who ne'er knelt by a dying bed ; All other woe on earth is brief , Save that which weeps a mother dead . A seaman's life was soon my lot , ' Mid AND FLOWERS OF FANCY . 29 Charles Swain.
... I - they know not what is grief Who ne'er knelt by a dying bed ; All other woe on earth is brief , Save that which weeps a mother dead . A seaman's life was soon my lot , ' Mid AND FLOWERS OF FANCY . 29 Charles Swain.
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Gems of Thought, and Flowers of Fancy (Classic Reprint) Richard Wright Procter Pré-visualização indisponível - 2018 |
Palavras e frases frequentes
beautiful beneath bird bless bloom blue BORN bosom bower breast breath bright brow calm chamber door cheek cheer child clouds cold dark dead dear death deep DIED dreams e'en earth EBENEZER ELLIOTT EMILY BRONTE eyes fair fled flowers fond gaze gentle glide glory grave green Grongar Hill hast hath heard heart heaven hills hope JOHN SCHOLES JOSEPH AUGUSTINE WADE life's light live lonely look'd lyre maiden Malhamdale morning mortal mother MUSE Nature's ne'er never night o'er pale pass'd PHILIP JAMES BAILEY POEMS press'd Quoth the Raven Raven ROBERT TANNAHILL rose tree round seem'd shine sigh silent sing skies sleep smile soft song sorrow soul spirit stars stream sunshine sweet tears tell thee thine thing THOMAS GASPEY THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY thou thought toil twas vale voice wandering wave weep wild WILLIAM PAYNTER wind wing young youth
Passagens conhecidas
Página 113 - The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve ; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherished long ! She wept with pity and delight, She blushed with love and virgin shame ; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. Her bosom heaved — she stepped aside, As conscious of my look she stept — Then suddenly, with timorous eye She fled to me and wept.
Página 230 - Tis morn ; but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave! Wave, Munich! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry!
Página 362 - ABOU BEN ADHEM — may his tribe increase — Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, And saw within the moonlight in his room, Making it rich and like a lily in bloom, An angel writing in a book of gold. Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold And to the presence in the room he said: 'What writest thou?' The vision raised its head, And with a look made all of sweet accord, Answered: 'The names of those who love the Lord.
Página 96 - Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken, "Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store, Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore: Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore Of 'Never— nevermore.
Página 366 - The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the Ocean, The winds of Heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle.
Página 96 - But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore, What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking, "Nevermore.
Página 93 - Only this and nothing more." Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor. Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow From my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore, For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore: Nameless here for evermore.
Página 5 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an Eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist...
Página 193 - But to the hero, when his sword Has won the battle for the free. Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word; And in its hollow tones are heard The thanks of millions yet to be.
Página 388 - In a drear-nighted December Too happy, happy Tree Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity : The north cannot undo them With a sleety whistle through them, Nor frozen thawings glue them From budding at the prime.