The casquet of literature, a selection in poetry and prose, ed. with notes by C. Gibbon, Volumele 1-21873 |
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Pagina
... turned out a much better one , if he had begun earlier to study that language ; but unfortunately he did not begin till he was fifteen years of age . Thackeray , in quoting to me this saying of Wakefield , remarked , My English would ...
... turned out a much better one , if he had begun earlier to study that language ; but unfortunately he did not begin till he was fifteen years of age . Thackeray , in quoting to me this saying of Wakefield , remarked , My English would ...
Pagina 8
... turned down . If I tacitly checked this play- fulness , and persisted , she would look so scared and disconsolate , as she became more and more bewildered , that the remembrance of her natural gaiety when I first strayed into her path ...
... turned down . If I tacitly checked this play- fulness , and persisted , she would look so scared and disconsolate , as she became more and more bewildered , that the remembrance of her natural gaiety when I first strayed into her path ...
Pagina 9
... turned towards me , and her little fingers twining round my hand ! Many and many an hour I sit thus ; but , of all those times , three times come the freshest on my mind . It is morning ; and Dora , made so trim by my aunt's hands ...
... turned towards me , and her little fingers twining round my hand ! Many and many an hour I sit thus ; but , of all those times , three times come the freshest on my mind . It is morning ; and Dora , made so trim by my aunt's hands ...
Pagina 10
... turned towards me . We have been silent , and there is a smile upon her face . I have ceased to carry my light burden up and down stairs now . She lies here all the day . " " ' Doady ! " " My dear Dora ! " " You won't think what I am ...
... turned towards me . We have been silent , and there is a smile upon her face . I have ceased to carry my light burden up and down stairs now . She lies here all the day . " " ' Doady ! " " My dear Dora ! " " You won't think what I am ...
Pagina 21
... turned back in spite of all her entreaties , promising to re- join her at Paris within a few days . He had never during the journey uttered a word which could betray his knowledge that she had any motive for her journey but that which ...
... turned back in spite of all her entreaties , promising to re- join her at Paris within a few days . He had never during the journey uttered a word which could betray his knowledge that she had any motive for her journey but that which ...
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Alte ediții - Afișează-le pe toate
The casquet of literature, a selection in poetry and prose, ed. with notes ... Casket Vizualizare completă - 1874 |
The casquet of literature, a selection in poetry and prose, ed ..., Volumele 3-4 Casket Vizualizare completă - 1873 |
Termeni și expresii frecvente
Andrew Waddell appeared arms Athenæum Club beautiful began bright called Cardo CASQUET child Cleora cried dark dear death delight door Dora dream earth eyes face fair father fear feel Flashman flowers followed Frederick Hume gave George Withers girl give hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven honour hope hour Hume husband Ivanhoe John Brown knew lady leave Leosthenes light living London look Lord Byron Luddites marriage Masaniello Mellor mind morning mother never night o'er once poet poor replied Richard Sale Rip Van Winkle Romelli round seemed silent sleep smile soon soul spirit stood Surbiton sure sweet tears tell Thackeray thee things THOMAS CAMPBELL thou thought tion told took turned voice wife wind woman wonder word young youth
Pasaje populare
Pagina 41 - Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
Pagina 75 - AT midnight, in his guarded tent, The Turk was dreaming of the hour When Greece, her knee in suppliance bent, Should tremble at his power ; In dreams, through camp and court, he bore The trophies of a conqueror ; In dreams his song of triumph heard. Then wore his monarch's signet ring, Then pressed that monarch's throne — a King ; As wild his thoughts, and gay of wing, As Eden's garden bird.
Pagina 41 - Tis not through envy of thy happy lot, But being too happy in thine happiness That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green, and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
Pagina 358 - His dews drop mutely on the hill, His cloud above it saileth still, Though on its slope men sow and reap : More softly than the dew is shed, Or cloud is floated overhead, He giveth His beloved — sleep.
Pagina 6 - Leave to the nightingale her shady wood ; A privacy of glorious light is thine; Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood Of harmony, with instinct more divine; Type of the wise who soar, but never roam; True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home...
Pagina 41 - Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain To thy high requiem become a sod.
Pagina 15 - How sleep the brave who sink to rest, By all their country's wishes blest ! When Spring, with dewy fingers cold, Returns to deck their hallowed mould, She there shall dress a sweeter sod Than Fancy's feet have ever trod. By fairy hands their knell is rung ; By forms unseen their dirge is sung ; There Honour comes, a pilgrim gray, To bless the turf that wraps their clay ; And freedom shall awhile repair, To dwell a weeping hermit there ! ODE TO MERCY.
Pagina 41 - I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But in embalmed darkness guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild...
Pagina 261 - O'er each fair sleeping brow ; She had each folded flower in sight — Where are those dreamers now ? One, 'midst the forests of the West, By a dark stream is laid — The Indian knows his place of rest, Far in the cedar shade.
Pagina 65 - Rip recollected. The very character of the people seemed changed. There was a busy, bustling, disputatious tone about it, instead of the accustomed phlegm and drowsy tranquillity.