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Anselmo ARABELLA STUART art thou banners bear beautiful beneath bow'd brave breast breath breeze bright brow cheek Conradin Constance Couci dark dead death deep doth dreams dwell e'en earth Eribert Ev'n fair father fear flowers gaze gentle glad glance gleam gloom glorious glow gone grave green grief Guido hath heart heaven hour human voice hush'd Joanna Baillie leaves light lips lone look look'd lyre midst mighty heart Montalba mournful night noble o'er pale Palermo pass'd planxty pour'd Procida proud Provencal Raimond rest rose round Scene seem'd shining Sicilians Sicily silent sleep slumber smile soft solemn song soul sound speak spirit stood stream strong sunny sweet sword tale tears thee thine things thou art Thou hast thought thro tomb tone Twas unto Vittoria voice warrior wave wild winds woman's wouldst young youth
Стр. 237 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand ! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Стр. 291 - THE breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Стр. 293 - Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued ; And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound — A tone of music, — summer's eve — or spring, A flower — the wind — the Ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
Стр. 238 - Through glowing orchards forth they peep, Each from its nook of leaves, And fearless there the lowly sleep, As the bird beneath their eaves. The free fair homes of England, Long, long, in hut and hall, May hearts of native proof be reared To guard each hallowed wall. And green for ever be the groves, And bright the flowery sod, Where first the child's glad spirit loves Its country and its God.
Стр. 295 - Yet not to thine eternal resting-place Shalt thou retire alone, nor couldst thou wish Couch more magnificent. Thou shalt lie down With patriarchs of the infant world — with kings, The powerful of the earth — the wise, the good, Fair forms, and hoary seers of ages past, All in one mighty sepulchre.
Стр. 141 - Yet further may relent : for mightier far Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast. But if thou goest, I follow...
Стр. 156 - Through many a joyous hour, Where the silvery green of the olive shade Hung dim o'er fount and bower. Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore, In song, in prayer, in sleep, Have been, as we may be no more ; Kind sister, let me weep...
Стр. 137 - I come, I come ! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song ; Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Стр. 291 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame; Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; — They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.