Zóphiël: Or, The Bride of Seven

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Hilliard, Gray, and Company, 1834 - Всего страниц: 255
 

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Стр. 230 - The bard has sung, God never formed a soul Without its own peculiar mate, to meet (I) lU wandering half, when ripe to crown the whole Bright plan of bliss, most heavenly, most complete ! But thousand evil things there are that hate To look on happiness ; these hurt, impede, And leagued with time, space, circumstance, and fate, Keep kindred heart from heart to pine and pant and bleed.
Стр. 230 - Keep kindred heart from heart, to pine, and pant, and bleed And as the dove to far Palmyra flying From where her native founts of Antioch beam, Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream ; So many a soul, o'er life's drear desert faring, Love's pure congenial spring unfound. unquafFd, Suffers, recoils, then, thirsty, and despairing Of what it would, descends and sips the nearest draught SONG.
Стр. 232 - In a lone, unfriended breast. Absent still! Ah! come and bless me! Let these eyes again caress thee. Once in caution, I could fly thee; Now, I nothing could deny thee. In a look if death there be, Come, and I will gaze on thee! MARIA GO WEN BROOKS (_Maria del OccidenteJ. WHAT AILS THIS HEART O
Стр. 188 - Yet each keen sense were dulness but for thee : Thy ray to joy, love, virtue, genius, warms; Thou never weariest ; no inconstancy But comes to pay new homage to thy charms. How many lips have sung thy praise, how long ! Yet, when his slumbering harp he feels thee woo, The pleasured bard pours forth another song, And finds in thee, like love, a theme forever new.
Стр. 232 - Day in melting purple dying, Blossoms all around me sighing, Fragrance from the lilies straying, Zephyr with my ringlets playing, Ye but waken my distress : I am sick of loneliness. Thou to whom I love to hearken, Come ere night around me darken : Though thy softness but deceive me, Say thou'rt true, and I'll believe thee.
Стр. 39 - And oft her drooping and resigned blue eye She'd wistful raise to read his radiant face ; But then, why shrunk her heart ? — a secret sigh Told her it most required what there it could not trace. LXVII. Now fair had fall'n the night. The damsel mused At her own window, in the pearly ray Of the full moon; her thoughtful soul infused Thus in her words;* left lone awhile to pray.
Стр. 34 - Scarce o'er the silly bird in state were he That builds his nest, loves, sings the morn's return, And sleeps at evening. Save by aid of thee, " Fame ne'er had roused, nor Song her records kept ; The gem, the ore, the marble breathing life, The pencil's colors, all in earth had slept...
Стр. 232 - Blossoms, all around me sighing; Fragrance, from the lilies straying; Zephyr, with my ringlets playing; Ye but waken my distress; I am sick of loneliness! Thou, to whom I love to hearken, Come, ere night around me darken; Though thy softness but deceive me, Say thou'rt true, and I'll believe thee; Veil, if ill, thy soul's intent, Let me think it innocent!

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