Myrtis: With Other Etchings and SketchingsHarper, 1855 - 292 Seiten |
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Seite 3
... . He appeared to wait her words , which at length were slowly uttered . " Go , then , my son , since the gods and the emperor have thus willed it . Would that this trial might have been spared my widowed heart . Yet go , for.
... . He appeared to wait her words , which at length were slowly uttered . " Go , then , my son , since the gods and the emperor have thus willed it . Would that this trial might have been spared my widowed heart . Yet go , for.
Seite 4
With Other Etchings and Sketchings Lydia Howard Sigourney. been spared my widowed heart . Yet go , for the hour of thy departure hath come . " The young Roman knelt at her feet , and pressed her hands to his lips . His voice was scarcely ...
With Other Etchings and Sketchings Lydia Howard Sigourney. been spared my widowed heart . Yet go , for the hour of thy departure hath come . " The young Roman knelt at her feet , and pressed her hands to his lips . His voice was scarcely ...
Seite 8
... heart . On the hope held before her , she gazed like the pale planet , drooping from the recent deluge , remembering rather the bitterness of the wa- ters , than the promise on the prismed cloud , that she should be submerged no more ...
... heart . On the hope held before her , she gazed like the pale planet , drooping from the recent deluge , remembering rather the bitterness of the wa- ters , than the promise on the prismed cloud , that she should be submerged no more ...
Seite 10
... heart of the young Roman . The touch of pity and the breathings of philosophy prepared it for another guest . Love had been to it like the angel at the Pool of Bethesda , and its troub- led fountains were gushing upward with strange un ...
... heart of the young Roman . The touch of pity and the breathings of philosophy prepared it for another guest . Love had been to it like the angel at the Pool of Bethesda , and its troub- led fountains were gushing upward with strange un ...
Seite 11
... heart like the ivy , cover- ing it with the fresh green of hope . Myrtis was one of those beautiful creations which fancy sometimes forms when her revery has been among seraphs . Her sylph - like step , her smile , im- parting happiness ...
... heart like the ivy , cover- ing it with the fresh green of hope . Myrtis was one of those beautiful creations which fancy sometimes forms when her revery has been among seraphs . Her sylph - like step , her smile , im- parting happiness ...
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
Ælius amid arms Athens babe beautiful birds blessed blood bosom bowed breath bright brother brow cheek cheer child Christian clasped cleave asunder colony comfort Commodus Connecticut countenance dark daughter dear dear Jane death deep dered duties dwelling earth emperor faith father fear feet flowers forest friends gazed grace gratitude grief habitation hand happiness hath head heard heart heaven honor hope husband Indian Jehoshaphat Jehu John Custis Lady Arabella larn lips listened lofty look maiden Malvina Marcellus Marcus Aurelius mind mingled Mohegan morning mother Mount Vernon murmur Myrtis never night noble Ontologon passed pathy peace Pequod Poland poor prayer Proclus proconsul Radzivil replied Rome Sassacus scarcely seemed sister slumbering smile sorrow soul spirit spoke stood sweet Talmage Tarbox tears tender thee thou thought tion Tituba tones Ulrica Uncas Vistula voice walk wife words young
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 63 - Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God. Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried. The Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.
Seite 21 - Fear made her devils, and weak hope her gods; Gods partial, changeful, passionate, unjust, Whose attributes were rage, revenge, or lust; Such as the souls of cowards might conceive, And, form'd like tyrants, tyrants would believe.
Seite 268 - Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part ; This is that incense of the heart Whose fragrance smells to heaven.
Seite 289 - Every log-cabin sends forth what it can spare for this work of pity and of sorrow. They cross each other's track. Incessantly they interrogate and reply, but in vain. The lost are not found ! In her mournful dwelling, the mother sat motionless. Her infant was upon her lap. The strong duty to succor its helplessness, grappled with the might of grief, and prevailed. Her eyes were riveted upon its brow. No sound passed her white lips. Pitying women, from distant habitations, gathered around and wept...
Seite 78 - She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love : A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky.
Seite 54 - There's not a flower on all the hills : the frost is on the pane: I only wish to live till the snowdrops come again: I wish the snow would melt and the sun come out on high: I long to see a flower so before the day I die. The building rook 'ill caw from the windy tall elm-tree, And the tufted plover pipe along the fallow lea, And the swallow 'ill come back again with summer o'er the wave But I shall lie alone, mother, within the mouldering grave.
Seite 155 - You are a liar ; I am no more a witch than you are a wizard ; and if you take away my life, God will give you blood to drink.
Seite 288 - But it is so dark, so dark !" Rousing herself with difficulty, she unties her apron, and spreads it over the head of the child, to protect it from the driving snow; she pillows the cold cheek on her breast, and grasps more firmly the benumbed hand by which she had so faithfully led her, through all their terrible pilgrimage. There they are ! One moves not. The other keeps vigil, feebly giving utterance, at intervals, to a low, suffocating spasm from a throat dried with hunger. Once more she leans...
Seite 102 - We, the rightful lords of yore, Are the rightful lords no more ; Like the silver mist we fail, Like the red leaves in the gale, — Fail like shadows, when the dawning Waves the bright flag of the morning.