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Ali Pacha amid Argentine Barry Cornwall beam beauty beneath blood bloom blue bosom bower brave breast breath bright brow Byron charm cheek clouds cold dark dear death death or freedom deep Deloraine dream earth fair fate fear feel fled flowers gaze gentle gloom glory glow grace grave green grief guardian band hast hath heard heart heaven hope hour Inchcape Rock Joanna Baillie lady light lips lonely look look'd Lord Lord Byron lost for love lyre maid mirth moon morning ne'er Nell Gwyn never night o'er ocean pale pride R. B. SHERIDAN rapture rest rock rose round Sappho seem'd shade shed shone shore sigh silent sleep smile soft song sooth sorrow soul sound spirit star stood storm sweet tears tell thee thine thou thought Twas voice wave weep wild wind wings young youth
Seite 250 - The Sensual and the Dark rebel in vain, Slaves by their own compulsion ! In mad game They burst their manacles and wear the name Of Freedom, graven on a heavier chain ! O Liberty ! with profitless endeavour Have I pursued thee, many a weary hour ; But thou nor swell's!
Seite 26 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Seite 208 - ON Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow ; And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
Seite 318 - Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? See'st thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?
Seite 97 - Her vest of gold Broidered with flowers, and clasped from head to foot, An emerald stone in every golden clasp ; And on her brow, fairer than alabaster, A coronet of pearls. But then her face, So lovely, yet so arch, so full of mirth, The overflowings of an innocent heart — It haunts me still, though many a year has fled, Like some wild melody...
Seite 169 - From wandering on a foreign strand ? If such there breathe, go mark him well; For him no minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored, and unsung.
Seite 178 - And down she suck'd with her the whirling wave, Like one who grapples with his enemy, And strives to strangle him before he die.
Seite 124 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve!
Seite 127 - 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.