 | John Johnstone (of Edinburgh.) - 1828 - 600 sider
...and, ah ! The deep, the low, the pleading tone, In which I told another's love, Interpreted my own ! She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; And she forgave me that I gazed Too fondly on her face. But when I told the cruel scorn, That crazed... | |
 | 1828 - 514 sider
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hopo ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her griere. I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — And old rude song that... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1829 - 400 sider
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that...well That ruin wild and hoary. She listened with a Sitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew, I could not chuse But gaze... | |
 | 1829 - 558 sider
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1829 - 575 sider
...my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own. My hope! my joy! my Generievc ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well... | |
 | 1831 - 596 sider
...cruel wrongs Befcl the Dark Ladie. Few sorrows hath she for her own, My hope, my joy, my Genevicve ! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve." — p. 28. It is much to be regretted that Coleridge has not oftener adopted this simple style, instead... | |
 | Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1831 - 628 sider
...cruel wrongs Befell the Dark Ladie. Few Sorrows halb she of her own. My hope, my joy, my Geneviève ! x All thoughts, all passions, all delights. Whatever stir this mortal frame, All are but ministers of... | |
 | Elizabeth Washington Wirt - 1832 - 338 sider
...one thought, and drop a tear To her whom love abandoned to despair. . . Prior. Timidity. She listen'd with a flitting blush. With downcast eyes, and modest...she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face With easy smiles dispell'd the silent fear That durst not tell me what I died to hear. Coleridge. Prior.... | |
 | Oskar Ludwig Bernhard Wolff - 1832 - 706 sider
...my joy, my Geneviève! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The gongs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story...rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and hoary. SÜSte ¡n bei- J?Mjíe fíe ifyn wartet Unb гок fein Soben рф gelegt, 2fíá er aufé gel&e Saub... | |
 | William Finden, Edward Francis Finden - 1834 - 234 sider
...lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Geneviève ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. I play'da soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story — An old rude song, that suited well... | |
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She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace ; For well she knew I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand ; And that for ten long years he wooed The lady of... 
