Outre-mer: A Pilgrimage Beyond the Sea, Bind 1–2Harper, 1835 |
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Side 30
... Nights ; and in modern times has been imitated in the poetic tale of " The Knight and the Friar , ” by George Colman . Unfortu- nately , I was not aware of this circumstance till after the first publication of the following pages ...
... Nights ; and in modern times has been imitated in the poetic tale of " The Knight and the Friar , ” by George Colman . Unfortu- nately , I was not aware of this circumstance till after the first publication of the following pages ...
Side 37
... night ; -when the abbey.clock strikes twelve - remember ! " It would be useless to relate how impatiently the friar counted the hours and the quarters as they chimed from the ancient tower of the abbey , while he paced to and fro along ...
... night ; -when the abbey.clock strikes twelve - remember ! " It would be useless to relate how impatiently the friar counted the hours and the quarters as they chimed from the ancient tower of the abbey , while he paced to and fro along ...
Side 38
... night . " " Then all good angels befriend us ! " continued the monk , endeavouring to take her hand . " Not so , Sir Monk , " said she , disengaging her- self . " You forget the conditions of our meet- ing . " The friar paused a moment ...
... night . " " Then all good angels befriend us ! " continued the monk , endeavouring to take her hand . " Not so , Sir Monk , " said she , disengaging her- self . " You forget the conditions of our meet- ing . " The friar paused a moment ...
Side 39
... Martin Franc threw the dead body of the monk across his shoulders , and with a heavy heart took the way to the abbey . It was a clear starry night ; and though the moon had not yet risen , her THE MONK OF ST . ANTHONY . 39.
... Martin Franc threw the dead body of the monk across his shoulders , and with a heavy heart took the way to the abbey . It was a clear starry night ; and though the moon had not yet risen , her THE MONK OF ST . ANTHONY . 39.
Side 43
... night . The knock at the door sounded like a death - knell in their ears . It still continued at intervals , rap - rap - rap ! -with a dull low sound , as if something heavy were swinging against the panel ; for the wind had risen ...
... night . The knock at the door sounded like a death - knell in their ears . It still continued at intervals , rap - rap - rap ! -with a dull low sound , as if something heavy were swinging against the panel ; for the wind had risen ...
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Almindelige termer og sætninger
Alban Lake Alhama amid ancient Andalusia apon erth ballads beautiful beneath Bernardo del Carpio bosom breath bright Castel Gandolfo castle character Charlemagne choly church cross crowd dark dead death delight Don Valentin earth eternal Eusebio feeling Friar Gui gentle gloomy grave guerite hand hast heart heaven hill holy horse hour Jorge Manrique journey king land landscape light live look Martin Franc melan merry midnight mind mingled monk Moorish moral morning mountains nature night Notary passed Périgueux pilgrim poem poetic poets priest Puerta del Sol Riccia Roman Rome round sacristan Saint scene seemed shade shadow shoulders side silent sing sleep soft solemn solitary song soul sound Spain Spanish ballads spirit stands stood story street sweet thee thou thought tion tower traveller trees Trouvères Valdepeñas village voice walls wind window
Populære passager
Side 230 - Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin To ope their golden eyes: With every thing that pretty is, My lady sweet, arise: Arise, arise.
Side 207 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale or piny mountain, Or forest, by slow stream or pebbly spring, Or chasms, and watery depths ; all these have vanished ; They live no longer in the faith of reason...
Side 229 - midst its dreary dells, Whose walls more awful nod By thy religious gleams. Or if chill blustering winds, or driving rain, Prevent my willing feet, be mine the hut, That from the mountain's side, Views wilds, and swelling floods, And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd spires, And hears their simple bell, and marks o'er all Thy dewy fingers draw The gradual dusky veil.
Side 82 - Our lives are rivers, gliding free To that unfathomed, boundless sea, The silent grave ! Thither all earthly pomp and boast Roll, to be swallowed up and lost In one dark wave. Thither the mighty torrents stray, Thither the brook pursues its way, And tinkling rill. There all are equal. Side by side The poor man and the son of pride Lie calm and still.
Side 218 - Now therein of all sciences (I speak still of human, and according to the humane conceits) is our poet the monarch. For he doth not only show the way, but giveth so sweet a prospect into the way, as will entice any man to enter into it.
Side 61 - Alike all ages. Dames of ancient days Have led their children through the mirthful maze, And the gay grandsire, skill'd in gestic lore, Has frisk'd beneath the burden of threescore.
Side 31 - Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer. Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath planned; To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; Its choir the wings and waves, its organ thunder, Its dome the sky.
Side 242 - tis too just a cause, Let this thought quicken thee : Minds that are great and free, "Should not on fortune pause ; Tis crown enough to virtue still, her own applause.
Side 99 - ... the life. They did so, and found his face half eaten, and his midriff and backbone full of serpents; and so he stands pictured among his armed ancestors. So does the fairest beauty change ; and it will be as bad with you and me ; and then what servants shall we have to wait upon us in the grave? what friends to visit us? what officious people to cleanse away the moist and unwholesome cloud reflected upon our faces from the sides of the weeping vaults, which are the longest weepers for our funeral?
Side 231 - Crown'd with her pail the tripping milkmaid sings ; The whistling ploughman stalks afield ; and, hark ! Down the rough slope the ponderous waggon rings...