The American Monthly Magazine and Critical Review, Volume 1H. Biglow, Orville Luther Holley H. Bigelow, Esq., editor and proprietor, 1817 |
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Page 15
... Lady Geraldine . larly original and beautiful poem " of time have some curiosity to see a little Christabel . Could Lord Byron , the of this " wild and singularly original author of this pithy sentence , show us wherein consists its ...
... Lady Geraldine . larly original and beautiful poem " of time have some curiosity to see a little Christabel . Could Lord Byron , the of this " wild and singularly original author of this pithy sentence , show us wherein consists its ...
Page 16
... lady so richly clad as she --- Beautiful exceedingly ! " ( Christabel , p . 3-7 . spells were wrought both Christabel upon and Sir Leoline , producing strange ex- ternal and internal transformations , is evident ; but what is meant to ...
... lady so richly clad as she --- Beautiful exceedingly ! " ( Christabel , p . 3-7 . spells were wrought both Christabel upon and Sir Leoline , producing strange ex- ternal and internal transformations , is evident ; but what is meant to ...
Page 17
... lady of comparatively humble that the public have let that nobleman birth , who returned his love with an into a ... lady's spells and sorceries , is the frequent , excuse for this breach of constancy is the perpetual perusal of the word ...
... lady of comparatively humble that the public have let that nobleman birth , who returned his love with an into a ... lady's spells and sorceries , is the frequent , excuse for this breach of constancy is the perpetual perusal of the word ...
Page 18
... lady , I would somewhat . with thee . ( Imogine retreats terrified ) ( detaining her ) -Thou shalt not go Imo . Shall not ! -Who art thou ? speak- Ber .. And must I speak ? There was a voice which all the world , but thee , Might have ...
... lady , I would somewhat . with thee . ( Imogine retreats terrified ) ( detaining her ) -Thou shalt not go Imo . Shall not ! -Who art thou ? speak- Ber .. And must I speak ? There was a voice which all the world , but thee , Might have ...
Page 21
... lady Imogine was used " Imo . I must encounter it - I have deserved it ; by her sanguinary and brutal lover , we in it as the murders of Radcliffe High- tender object. " And would his death - fixed eye be terrible " As its ray bent in ...
... lady Imogine was used " Imo . I must encounter it - I have deserved it ; by her sanguinary and brutal lover , we in it as the murders of Radcliffe High- tender object. " And would his death - fixed eye be terrible " As its ray bent in ...
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Popular passages
Page 10 - At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Page 296 - No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow ; But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow.
Page 296 - We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him — But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him.
Page 296 - By the struggling moonbeam's misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him ; But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him.
Page 296 - Oh ! when a Mother meets on high The Babe she lost in infancy, Hath she not then, for pains and fears, The day of woe, the watchful night, For all her sorrow, all her tears, An over-payment of delight...
Page 349 - Nor look'd upon the earth with human eyes ; The thirst of their ambition was not mine, The aim of their existence was not mine ; My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers, Made me a stranger ; though I wore the form, I had no sympathy with breathing flesh, Nor midst the creatures of clay that girded me Was there but one who but of her anon.
Page 9 - twas but the wind, Or the car rattling o'er the stony street; On with the dance! let joy be unconfined; No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet But hark!
Page 296 - Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But we left him alone with his glory.
Page 349 - Or to look, list'ning, on the scattered leaves, While Autumn winds were at their evening song. These were my pastimes, and to be alone ; For if the beings, of whom I was one, — Hating to be so, — cross'd me in my path, I felt myself degraded back to them, And was all clay again.
Page 422 - I stoop not to despair; For I have battled with mine agony, And made me wings wherewith to overfly The narrow circus of my dungeon wall...