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Sketch of the author's life (p. i-ccxxxii) Shades of the dead. Critical ...
Úplné zobrazení - 1848
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Strana 331 - Your name from hence immortal life shall have, Though I, once gone, to all the world must die. The earth can yield me but a common grave, When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie. Your monument shall be my gentle verse, Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read, And tongues to be your being shall rehearse When all the breathers of this world are dead. You still shall live — such virtue hath my pen — Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.
Strana 331 - And summer's lease hath all too short a date : Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion...
Strana 107 - And see ! the lady Christabel Gathers herself from out her trance; Her limbs relax, her countenance Grows sad and soft; the smooth thin lids Close o'er her eyes; and tears she sheds — Large tears that leave the lashes bright...
Strana 105 - The brands were flat, the brands were dying, Amid their own white ashes lying; But when the lady passed, there came A tongue of light, a fit of flame; And Christabel saw the lady's eye, And nothing else saw she thereby, Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall, Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall. O softly tread, said Christabel, My father seldom sleepeth well.
Strana cliii - There is a spirit which I feel, that delights to do no evil, nor to revenge any wrong, but delights to endure all things, in hope to enjoy its own in the end. Its hope is to outlive all wrath and contention, and to weary out all exaltation and cruelty, or whatever is of a nature contrary to itself.
Strana 105 - Lifted her up, a weary weight, Over the threshold of the gate : Then the lady rose again, And moved, as she were not in pain. So free from danger, free from fear, They crossed the court : right glad they were. And Christabel devoutly cried, To the lady by her side, Praise we the Virgin all divine Who hath rescued thee from thy distress ! Alas, alas! said Geraldine, I cannot speak for weariness.
Strana 106 - Alas! what ails poor Geraldine? Why stares she with unsettled eye? Can she the bodiless dead espy? And why with hollow voice cries she, 'Off, woman, off! this hour is mine — Though thou her guardian spirit be, Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me.
Strana 101 - Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, And the owls have awakened the crowing cock ; Tu— whit ! Tu— whoo ! And hark, again ! the crowing cock, How drowsily it crew.