The Maid of Orleans: A Romantic Chronicle

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Harper & Brothers, Publishers, 1850 - Всего страниц: 188
 

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Стр. 121 - There's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
Стр. 170 - We are the ministers of pain, and fear, And disappointment, and mistrust, and hate. And clinging crime ; and as lean dogs pursue Through wood and lake some struck and sobbing fawn, We track all things that weep, and bleed, and live, When the great King betrays them to our will.
Стр. 100 - Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ; Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes ; I should have found in some part of my soul A drop of patience : but, alas ! to make me A fixed figure, for the hand of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at...
Стр. 59 - Maid sent hither by God the King of Heaven, the keys of all the good towns you have taken and laid waste in France. She comes in God's name to establish the Blood Royal, ready to make peace if you agree to abandon France and repay what you have taken.
Стр. 175 - For God is also' in sleep ; and dreams advise, . Which he hath sent propitious, some great good Presaging, since with sorrow' and heart's distress Wearied I fell asleep. But now lead on ! In me is no delay : with thee to go...
Стр. 138 - Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.
Стр. 86 - Such troops as these in shining arms were seen, When Theseus met in fight their maiden queen : Such to the field Penthesilea led, From the fierce virgin when the Grecians fled ; With such return'd triumphant from the war.
Стр. 127 - And now, my race of terror run, Mine be the eve of tropic Sun ! No pale gradations quench his ray, No twilight dews his wrath allay ; With disk like battle-target red, He rushes to his burning bed, Dyes the wide wave with bloody light, Then sinks at once — and all is night.
Стр. 117 - Let the doors be shut upon him, that he may play the fool no where but in 's own house. Farewell. Oph. O, help him, you sweet heavens ! Ham. If thou dost marry, I'll give thee this plague for thy dowry : be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape calumny.
Стр. 59 - Maid who is sent by God the keys of all the good towns you have taken and violated in France. She is...

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