A Dream of Fair Women

J.R. Osgood, 1880 - 103 Seiten

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Seite 39 - I had great beauty : ask thou not my name : No one can be more wise than destiny. Many drew swords and died. Where'er I came I brought calamity.
Seite 11 - I READ, before my eyelids dropt their shade, " The Legend of Good Women," long ago Sung by the morning star of song, who made His music heard below ; n.
Seite 43 - was blasted with a curse : This woman was the cause. " I was cut off from hope in that sad place, Which yet to name my spirit loathes and fears : My father held his hand upon his face ; I, blinded with my tears, " Still strove to speak : my voice was thick with sighs As in a dream. Dimly I could descry The stern black-bearded kings with wolfish eyes, Waiting to see me die. " The high masts flickered as they lay afloat ; The crowds, the temples, wavered, and the shore ; The bright death quivered...
Seite 83 - God divide the night with flying flame, And thunder on the everlasting hills. I heard Him, for He spake, and grief became A solemn scorn of ills. ' When the next moon was roll'd into the sky, Strength came to me that equall'd my desire. How beautiful a thing it was to die For God and for my sire ! * It comforts me in this one thought to dwell, That I subdued me to my father's will ; Because the kiss he gave me, ere I fell, Sweetens the spirit still. ' Moreover it is written that my race 1 Hew'd Ammon,...
Seite 17 - Charged both mine eyes with tears. In every land I saw, wherever light illumineth, Beauty and anguish walking hand in hand The downward slope to death.
Seite 73 - The lawn by some cathedral, thro' the door 190 Hearing the holy organ rolling waves Of sound on roof and floor Within, and anthem sung, is charm'd and tied To where he stands, — so stood I, when that flow Of music left the lips of her that died To save her father's vow...
Seite 31 - There was no motion in the dumb dead air, Not any song of bird or sound of rill ; Gross darkness of the inner sepulchre Is not so deadly still As that wide forest. Growths of jasmine tura'd Their humid arms festooning tree to tree, And at the root thro' lush green grasses burn'd The red anemone.
Seite 11 - Women,' long ago Sung by the morning star of song, who made His music heard below ; Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still.
Seite 25 - As when a great thought strikes along the brain, And flushes all the cheek. And once my arm was lifted to hew down A cavalier fiom off his saddle-bow, That bore a lady from a leaguer'd town ; And then, I know not how, All those sharp fancies, by down-lapsing thought Stream'd onward, lost their edges, and did creep RolFd on each other, rounded, smooth'd, and brought Into the gulfs of sleep.
Seite 35 - On those long, rank, dark wood-walks drench'd in dew, Leading from lawn to lawn. The smell of violets, hidden in the green, Pour'd back into my empty soul and frame The times when I remember to have been Joyful and free from blame.

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