The City of the Plague: And Other PoemsG. Ramsay, 1816 - 299 páginas |
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Página 3
... To strengthen and support us in our fears . Frank . Oh Wilmot ! to my soul a field of graves , A church - yard filled with marble monuments , Profoundly hush'd in death's own sanctity , Seems not more THE CITY OF THE PLAGUE Page.
... To strengthen and support us in our fears . Frank . Oh Wilmot ! to my soul a field of graves , A church - yard filled with marble monuments , Profoundly hush'd in death's own sanctity , Seems not more THE CITY OF THE PLAGUE Page.
Página 5
... fears were gone . But these green banks , With an unwonted flush of flowers overgrown , Brown , when I left them last , with frequent feet , From morn till evening , hurrying to and fro , Scene I. 5 THE CITY OF THE PLAGUE .
... fears were gone . But these green banks , With an unwonted flush of flowers overgrown , Brown , when I left them last , with frequent feet , From morn till evening , hurrying to and fro , Scene I. 5 THE CITY OF THE PLAGUE .
Página 8
... fear - stricken by the storm . Who at that moment leapt into the sea , And seiz'd the drowning screamer by the hair ? Who was that glorious being ? Who the wretch Then rescued from the waves ? I lov'd thee well Before I hung upon thy ...
... fear - stricken by the storm . Who at that moment leapt into the sea , And seiz'd the drowning screamer by the hair ? Who was that glorious being ? Who the wretch Then rescued from the waves ? I lov'd thee well Before I hung upon thy ...
Página 9
... fears . So feel I at this moment - she is living . Frank . O God forbid ! that I should place belief In these dim ... fear ! Be comforted by me - my very dreams . Of late have all been joyous . Frank . Joyous dreams ! My hours of ...
... fears . So feel I at this moment - she is living . Frank . O God forbid ! that I should place belief In these dim ... fear ! Be comforted by me - my very dreams . Of late have all been joyous . Frank . Joyous dreams ! My hours of ...
Página 10
... fears and apprehensions , day and night , Drive where they will my unresisting soul . Wil . But that it is day - light , I could believe That yonder , moving by the river side , Came on a ghost . Did ever eye behold A thing so death ...
... fears and apprehensions , day and night , Drive where they will my unresisting soul . Wil . But that it is day - light , I could believe That yonder , moving by the river side , Came on a ghost . Did ever eye behold A thing so death ...
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Términos y frases comunes
2d Woman agony angel art thou Astrologer beauty behold beneath blessed blest bosom breast breath bright calm cheek child church-yard Clergyman cloud corpse creature crowd dark dead death despair doth dreadful dream earth eyes face father fear feel feet flowers frae Frank Frankfort ghastly gleam grave grief hair hand happy hath hear heart heaven hideous holy hour hush hymn innocence Isabel Jailor knees Lady light look look'd lov'd Magd Magdalene Master of Revels mercy Methinks mirth misery mortal mother mournful ne'er night o'er pale peace pity Plague prayers Priest Prisoner psalms round scaffold seem'd silent silent world singing sitting sleep smile song sorrow speak spirit sunny sunshine sweet tears thee thou art thy soul tomb Twas unto voice walk Walsingham weep Wife wild Wilmot wretch
Pasajes populares
Página 189 - Up ! up to yon cliff! like a king to his throne ! O'er the black silent forest piled lofty and lone — A throne which the eagle is glad to resign Unto footsteps so fleet and so fearless as thine.
Página 193 - ... of thy desert regardless of foes. Thy bold antlers call on the hunter afar With a haughty defiance to come to the war ! No outrage is war to a creature like thee ! The bugle-horn fills thy wild spirit with glee, As thou bearest thy neck on the wings of the wind, And the laggarclly gaze-hound is toiling behind. In the beams of thy forehead that glitter with death, • In feet that draw power from the touch of the heath...
Página 209 - THE BURIAL IN THE DESERT. How weeps yon gallant Band O'er him their valour could not save ! For the bayonet is red with gore, And he, the beautiful and brave, Now sleeps in Egypt's sand.
Página 188 - Wafting up his own mountains that far-beaming head ; Or borne like a whirlwind down on the vale ? — — Hail ! King of the wild and the beautiful ! — hail ! Hail ! Idol divine ! — whom Nature hath borne O'er a hundred hill-tops since the mists of the morn, Whom the pilgrim lone wandering on mountain and moor, As the vision glides...
Página 14 - Darkening the city with the shadows of death. Know ye that hideous hubbub ? Hark, far off A tumult like an echo ! on it comes, Weeping and wailing, shrieks and groaning prayer ; And louder than all, outrageous blasphemy. The passing storm hath left the silent streets. But are these houses near you tenantless ( Over your heads from a window, suddenly A ghastly face is thrust, and yells of death With voice not human. Who is he that flies, As if a demon...
Página 76 - Whate'er my doom, It cannot be unhappy. God hath given me The boon of resignation : I could die, Though doubtless human fears would cross my soul, Calmly even now ; — yet if it be ordained That I return unto my native valley And live with Frankfort there, why should I fear To say I might be happy — happier far Than I deserve to be? — Sweet Rydal lake ! Am I again to visit thee ? to hear Thy glad waves murmuring all around my soul ? Isabel.
Página 190 - The sunlight is on them— in silence they sleep — A glimmering glow, like the breast of the deep, When the billows scarce heave in the calmness of morn. Down the pass of Glen-Etive the tempest is borne, And the hill-side is swinging, and roars with a sound In the heart of the forest embosom'd profound.
Página 77 - Twould seem inhuman to be happy there, And both my parents dead. How could I walk On what I used to call my father's walk, He in his grave ! or look upon that tree Each year so full of blossoms or of fruit Planted by my mother, and her holy name Graven on its stem by mine own infant hands ! Isabel. It would be haunted, but most holy ground.
Página 191 - And the hill side is swinging, and roars with a sound In the heart of the forest embosom'd profound. Till all in a moment the tumult is o'er, And the mountain of thunder is still as the shore When the sea is at ebb ; not a leaf nor a breath To disturb the wild solitude, steadfast as death.
Página 204 - The grove seemed all her own Round the beauty of that breast—- But the startled dove afar is flown! Forsaken is her nest! In yonder forest wide A flock of wild-deer lies, Beauty breathes o'er each tender side, And shades their peaceful eyes ! The hunter in the night Hath singled out the doe, In whose light the...