The Literary souvenir; or, Cabinet of poetry and romance, ed. by A.A. Watts. [on large paper].

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Alaric Alexander Watts
1831
 

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Стр. 113 - Our love was like most other loves, — A little glow, a little shiver, A rosebud and a pair of gloves, And "Fly Not Yet," upon the river; Some jealousy of some one's heir, Some hopes of dying broken-hearted; A miniature, a lock of hair, The usual vows, — and then we parted.
Стр. 113 - Yet," upon the river; Some jealousy of some one's heir, Some hopes of dying broken-hearted; A miniature, a lock of hair, The usual vows, — and then we parted. We parted: months and years rolled by; We met again four summers after. Our parting was all sob and sigh, — Our meeting was all mirth and laughter; For, in my heart's most secret cell, There had been many other lodgers; And she was not the ball-room's belle, But only Mrs. — Something — Rogers!
Стр. 110 - Little. Through sunny May, through sultry June, I loved her with a love eternal ; I spoke her praises to the moon, I wrote them to the Sunday Journal.
Стр. 109 - There, when the sounds of flute and fiddle Gave signal sweet in that old hall Of hands across and down the middle, Hers was the subtlest spell by far Of all that...
Стр. 111 - She sketched ; the vale, the wood, the beach, Grew lovelier from her pencil's shading : She botanized; I envied each Young blossom in her boudoir fading : She warbled Handel ; it was grand ; She made the Catalani jealous : She touched the organ; I could stand For hours and hours to blow the bellows.
Стр. 110 - Dark was her hair, her hand was white : Her voice was exquisitely tender ; Her eyes were full of liquid light ; I never saw a waist so slender ! Her every look, her every smile, Shot right and left a score of arrows ; I thought 'twas Venus from her isle, And wondered where she'd left her sparrows.
Стр. 111 - Whose colour was extremely hectic; Her grandmother for many a year Had fed the parish with her bounty; Her second cousin was a peer, And lord lieutenant of the county.
Стр. 292 - Dark is his hide on either side, but the blood within doth boil ; And the dun hide glows, as if on fire, as he paws to the turmoil. His eyes are jet, and they are set in crystal rings of snow; But now they stare with one red glare of brass upon the foe.
Стр. 112 - She smiled on many, just for fun, — I knew that there was nothing in it; I was the first — the only one Her heart had thought of for a minute.
Стр. 176 - My Highland lassie was a warm-hearted, charming young creature as ever blessed a man with generous love. After a pretty long tract of the most ardent reciprocal attachment, we met by appointment, on the second Sunday of May, in a sequestered spot by the Banks of Ayr, where we spent the day in taking a farewell, before she should embark for the West Highlands, to arrange matters among her friends for our projected change of life.

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