The woman of genius [by mrs. Ross].

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Стр. 12 - But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; Minions of splendour shrinking from distress! None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued; This is to be alone; this, this is solitude.
Стр. 41 - Are you a man ? Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil. Lady M. O proper stuff ! This is the very painting of your fear : This is the air-drawn dagger which, you said, Led you to Duncan.
Стр. 102 - They parted - ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs, which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Стр. 143 - Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny ; and youth is vain ; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Стр. 22 - Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild; Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled, And still his...
Стр. 40 - Infirm of purpose ! Give me the daggers : the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures ; 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted deviL If he do bleed, I '11 gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt.
Стр. 197 - Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down ; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own ; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.

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