The weird of the Wentworths, Volume 1; Volume 151

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Page 118 - It is the hush of night, and all between Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly seen, Save darken'd Jura, whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep ; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood ; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more...
Page 44 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men ; A thousand hearts beat happily ; and when Music arose with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage bell...
Page 148 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand ! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Page 103 - Above me are the Alps, The palaces of Nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned Eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanche — the thunderbolt of snow ! All that expands the spirit, yet appals, Gather around these summits, as to show How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below, LXIII.
Page 118 - Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face, The mirror where the stars and mountains view The stillness of their aspect in each trace Its clear depth yields of their far height and hue...
Page 175 - I hear a voice, you cannot hear, Which says, I must not stay; I see a hand, you cannot see, Which beckons me away.
Page 83 - Prometheus-like, from heaven she stole The fire, that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes...
Page 60 - But when I older grew, Joining a corsair's crew, O'er the dark sea I flew With the marauders. Wild was the life we led ; Many the souls that sped, Many the hearts that bled, By our stern orders.
Page 185 - midst the throng, Seemed reckless all of dance or song . He was a youth of dusky mien, Whereon the Indian sun had been, Of crested brow and long black hair— A stranger, like the palm-tree there. And slowly, sadly, moved his plumes, Glittering athwart the leafy glooms. He passed the pale -green olives by, Nor won the chestnut flowers his eye ; But when to that sole palm he came...
Page 137 - tis done : all words are idle ; Words from me are vainer still ; But the thoughts we cannot bridle . Force their way without the will. Fare thee well ! — thus disunited, Torn from every nearer tie, Seared in heart, and lone and blighted, More than this I scarce can die. A SKETCH. BORN in the garret, in the kitchen bred ; Promoted thence to deck her mistress...

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