The Monk: A Romance. In Three Volumes. By M. G. Lewis, ...

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I
11
II
74
III
176

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Seite 148 - Thy kind hand my eyelids closing, Yet one favour I implore : Pray thou for my soul's reposing, When my heart shall throb no more. ' So shall Jesus, still attending, Gracious to a Christian's vow, Pleased accept my ghost ascending, And a seat in heaven allow.
Seite 101 - Content and comfort bless me more in This grot than e'er I felt before in A palace ; and with thoughts still soaring To God on high, Each night and morn with voice imploring, This wish I sigh: " Let me, 0 Lord, from life retire, Unknown each guilty, worldly fire, Remorseful throb, or loose desire ; And when I die, Let me in this belief expire, To God I fly!
Seite 150 - H 3 of sight. The songstress sat at a little distance from his bed. The attitude in which she bent over her harp was easy and graceful : her cowl had fallen backwarder than usual; two coral lips were visible, ripe, fresh, and melting; and a chin, in whose dimples seemed to lurk a thousand Cupids.
Seite 77 - ... what sweetness, yet what majesty in her divine eyes ! how softly her cheek reclines upon her hand ! Can the rose vie with the blush of that cheek ? can the lily rival the whiteness of that hand ? Oh ! if such a creature existed, and existed but for me ! were I permitted to twine round my fingers those golden ringlets, and press with my lips the treasures of that snowy bosom ! gracious God, should I then resist the temptation? Should I not barter for a single embrace the reward of my sufferings...
Seite 146 - ... moments with such exquisite taste as to prove her a perfect mistress of the instrument. The air which she played was soft and plaintive. Ambrosio, while he listened, felt his uneasiness subside, and a pleasing melancholy spread itself into his bosom. Suddenly Matilda changed the strain: with an hand...
Seite 149 - Dug his gallant cousin's grave. To perform his promise made, he Cut the heart from out the breast ; That Belerma, wretched lady, Might receive the last bequest. Sad was Montesinos' heart, he Felt distress his bosom rend. ' Oh, my cousin Durandarte, Woe is me to view thy end ! ' Sweet in manners, fair in favour, Mild in temper, fierce in fight : Warrior nobler, gentler, braver ! Never shall behold the light.
Seite 11 - But very few were influenced by those reasons; and in a city where superstition reigns with such despotic sway as in Madrid, to seek for true devotion would be a fruitless attempt. The Audience now assembled in the Capuchin Church was collected by various causes, but all of them were foreign to the ostensible motive.
Seite 149 - Thus spoke gallant Durandarte; Soon his brave heart broke in twain. Greatly joy'd the Moorish party, That the gallant knight was slain. Bitter weeping, Montesinos Took from him his helm and glaive ; Bitter weeping, Montesinos Dug his gallant cousin's grave. To perform his promise made, he Cut the heart from out the breast, That Belerma, wretched lady! Might receive the last bequest. Sad was Montesinos' heart, he Felt distress his bosom rend. "Oh! my cousin Durandarte, Woe is me to view thy end! "Sweet...
Seite 34 - CapuC 5 chins, and surnamed the man of holiness. Antonia, while she gazed upon him .eagerly, felt a pleasure fluttering in her bosom, which till then had been unknown to her, and for which she in vain endeavoured to account. She waited with impatience till the sermon should begin : and when at length the friar spoke, the sound of his Voice seemed to penetrate into her very soul. Though no other of the spectators felt such violent sensations as did the young Antonia, yet every one listened with interest...
Seite 53 - ... between them : his form was gigantic, his complexion was swarthy, his eyes fierce and terrible; his mouth breathed out volumes of fire, and on his forehead was written, in legible characters, •" Pride !. Lust ! Inhumanity !

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