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answered appeared arms asked beauty born breath bright called Captain child close cold dark dead dear death died dream earth eyes face fair fall father fear feel fire flowers followed gave give gods grave hand happy head hear heard heart heaven honor hope hour human Italy kind king knew Lady land leave light live look Lord lost matter means mind morning mother nature never night o'er once passed poor present provost replied rest rose round seemed seen side sleep smile soon soul sound speak spirit stand stood sweet tears tell thee things thou thought thousand tion took true turned voice whole wind young
Seite 154 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Seite 257 - Loop up her tresses Escaped from the comb, Her fair auburn tresses; Whilst wonderment guesses Where was her home? Who was her father? Who was her mother? Had she a sister? Had she a brother? Or was there a dearer one Still, and a nearer one Yet, than all other? Alas for the rarity Of Christian charity Under the sun! O, it was pitiful! Near a whole city full, Home she had none.
Seite 154 - 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 ; But hush ! hark ! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell.
Seite 155 - And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves, Dewy with nature's tear-drops as they pass, Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves, Over the unreturning brave, - alas! Ere evening to be trodden like the grass Which now beneath them, but above shall grow In its next verdure, when this fiery mass Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope shall moulder cold and low.
Seite 100 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull, cold marble, where no mention Of me...
Seite 306 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Seite 190 - Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn ; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Seite 473 - From seeming evil still educing good, And better thence again, and better still, In infinite progression.
Seite 309 - One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he ; The next with dirges due in sad array ' Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne, — Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.