Hyperion, a romance. Kavanagh, a tale

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Стр. 193 - O, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars...
Стр. 262 - Here hung those lips that I have kissed I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar?
Стр. 433 - I have trodden the wine-press alone, and of the people there was none with me : for I will tread them in mine anger, and trample them in my fury, and their blood shall be sprinkled upon my garments, and I will stain all my raiment.
Стр. 214 - Land ! For all the broken-hearted The mildest herald by our fate allotted, Beckons, and with inverted torch doth stand To lead us with a gentle hand Into the land of the great Departed, Into the Silent Land ;
Стр. 353 - Yea, I think it meet, as long as I am in this tabernacle, to stir you up by putting you in remembrance ; knowing that shortly I must put off this my tabernacle, even as our Lord Jesus Christ hath shewed me.
Стр. 432 - Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozrah? this that is glorious in his apparel, traveling in the greatness of his strength? I that speak in righteousness, mighty to save.
Стр. 283 - He that hath found some fledged bird's nest may know At first sight if the bird be flown ; But what fair well or grove he sings in now, That is to him unknown.
Стр. 411 - twill be the same story To-morrow — and the next more dilatory ; Then indecision brings its own delays, And days are lost lamenting o'er lost days. Are you in earnest? seize this very minute — What you can do, or dream you can, begin it, Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it.
Стр. 284 - O Father of eternal life, and all Created glories under Thee, Resume thy spirit from this world of thrall Into true liberty. Either disperse these mists, which blot and fill My perspective still as they pass ; Or else remove me hence unto that hill, Where I shall need no glass.
Стр. 123 - Whoe'er she be, That not impossible she That shall command my heart and me; Where'er she lie, Locked up from mortal eye In shady leaves of destiny: Till that ripe birth Of studied Fate stand forth...

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