The Circassian Chief, a Romance of Russia, Том 2

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Стр. 15 - Twere now to be most happy, for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.
Стр. 120 - SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; 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.
Стр. 200 - Hark ! through the silence of the cold, dull night, The hum of armies gathering rank on rank ! Lo ! dusky masses steal in dubious sight Along the leaguered wall and bristling bank Of the armed river, while with straggling light The stars peep through the vapours dim and dank, Which curl in curious wreaths — How soon the smoke Of Hell shall pall them in a deeper cloak ! • LXXXVH.
Стр. 160 - XXXII. Hush'd were his Gertrude's lips ! but still their bland And beautiful expression seem'd to melt With love that could not die ! and still his hand She presses to the heart no more that felt Ah, heart ! where once each fond affection dwelt. And features yet that spoke a soul more fair.
Стр. 180 - Twas sung, how they were lovely in their lives, And in their deaths had not divided been. Touch'd by the music, and the melting scene, Was scarce one tearless eye amidst the crowd : — Stern warriors, resting on their swords, were seen To veil their eyes, as pass'd each much-loved shroud — While woman's softer soul in woe dissolved aloud.
Стр. 162 - With fawning wordes he courted her a while ; And, looking lovely and oft sighing sore, Her constant hart did tempt with diverse guile.
Стр. 60 - She wanders o'er the desert sands A wretched widow now, The fruitful mother of so fair a race ; With only one preserved, She wanders o'er the wilderness.
Стр. 196 - A wilder brightness. On the Goth she gazed While underneath the emotions of that hour Exhausted life gave way. O God ! she said, Lifting her hands, thou hast restored me all, . . All . . in one hour ! . . and round his neck she threw Her arms and cried, My Roderick! mine in Heaven! Groaning, he claspt her close, and in that act And agony her happy spirit fled.
Стр. 41 - E'en so, caparison'd in gaudy pride, The bounding vessel dances on the tide. Fierce and more fierce the gathering tempest grew; South, and by west, the threatening demon blew ; Auster's resistless force all air invades, And every rolling wave more ample spreads. The ship no longer can her top-sails bear ; No hopes of milder weather now appear. Bow-lines and halyards are cast off again, Clue-lines...

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