Eva; or, The bridal spectre [by mrs. W. Johnson].G. Virtue, 1830 - 309 |
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Strona 21
... feeling fully con- vinced of his father's untimely fate , would neither eat nor sleep , but wept and lamented , with as much vio- lence , as if he had really seen his father lay a corpse at his feet . J 15 CHAPTER VI . I've heard of ...
... feeling fully con- vinced of his father's untimely fate , would neither eat nor sleep , but wept and lamented , with as much vio- lence , as if he had really seen his father lay a corpse at his feet . J 15 CHAPTER VI . I've heard of ...
Strona 37
... feelings he could not suppress , for the unhappy fate of Sir Edward , caused him to be fearful lest some mischief should also befal his now only surviving re- lative . Edmund had been in town little more than one month , when he sent ...
... feelings he could not suppress , for the unhappy fate of Sir Edward , caused him to be fearful lest some mischief should also befal his now only surviving re- lative . Edmund had been in town little more than one month , when he sent ...
Strona 38
... feeling , not to have observed . This he certainly did , but endeavoured to persuade himself it was merely fancy , for Edmund now wished to espouse Roselma , and determined to have his nuptials speedily concluded.— “ There will be no ...
... feeling , not to have observed . This he certainly did , but endeavoured to persuade himself it was merely fancy , for Edmund now wished to espouse Roselma , and determined to have his nuptials speedily concluded.— “ There will be no ...
Strona 52
... feeling , and she must now abide the consequence ; tear- ful and unhappy , she fell asleep . She dreamed she was in a chapel with her father ; suddenly , she thought she heard a number of voices , accompanied by melodious instruments ...
... feeling , and she must now abide the consequence ; tear- ful and unhappy , she fell asleep . She dreamed she was in a chapel with her father ; suddenly , she thought she heard a number of voices , accompanied by melodious instruments ...
Strona 62
... feeling for me , consider this poor child . I am rightly served , Heaven hath made you my rod of punishment , but this poor innocent , this much wronged child she must not suffer . - I care not now what be- comes of myself ; all I ask ...
... feeling for me , consider this poor child . I am rightly served , Heaven hath made you my rod of punishment , but this poor innocent , this much wronged child she must not suffer . - I care not now what be- comes of myself ; all I ask ...
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Adrian Agnes Barnedo beheld Belmont House blood bosom Bouverie caused chamber chapel child corpse cottage countenance cried dark daughter death Deloraine Castle door dreadful east wing endeavoured Engleton House enquired entered Evadne eyes fate Father Athanasius fear garden grief grieved hand hastened hath heard heart Heaven Holy Land hour Jabeth Jesse knew Lady Deloraine Lady Mildmay Lady Roselma ladyship Laura leave lest Lincolnshire little Eva looked Mandeville marriage Matthias mind monk Athanasius Monteith morning mother Nabal never night pale passed person poor Rachel Ramsbottom recollected replied Sir ruffian Saint Peter seemed sell this house servant Sir Edmund Sir Edward Seymour Sir Eldred Sir James Sir Marmaduke Sir Ralph Sir Raymond Somerton soon sorrow spectre spirits stood tears thee thou thought uncle vault Vipond voice walked west wing whilst window wish woman words young
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 5 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Strona 202 - gainst self-slaughter! O God! God! How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable, Seem to me all the uses of this world! Fie on't! Ah, fie! 'tis an unweeded garden, That grows to seed; things rank and gross in nature Possess it merely.
Strona 74 - Where the great Sun begins his state, Robed in flames and amber light, The clouds in thousand liveries dight, While the ploughman near at hand Whistles o'er the furrowed land, And the milkmaid singeth blithe, And the mower whets his scythe, And every shepherd tells his tale Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Strona 211 - And the green turf lie lightly on thy breast : There shall the morn her earliest tears bestow, There the first roses of the year shall blow; While angels with their silver wings o'ershade The ground, now sacred by thy reliques made.
Strona 48 - For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires: The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
Strona 59 - Guilt is the source of sorrow ! 'tis the fiend, The avenging fiend, that follows us behind, With whips and stings. The blest know none of this, But rest in everlasting peace of mind, And find the height of all their heaven is goodness.
Strona 74 - Through the high wood echoing shrill. Sometime walking, not unseen, By hedgerow elms, on hillocks green, Right against the eastern gate, Where the great sun begins his state...
Strona 26 - ... destroy the births of women, and the increase of cattle ; they blast the corn on the ground, the grapes of the vineyard, the fruits of the trees, the grass and herbs of the field.
Strona 108 - But see, the setting Sun Puts on a milder countenance, and skirts The undulated clouds, that cross his way, With glory visible. His axle cools, And his broad disk, though fervent, not intense, Foretells the near approach of matron night. Ye fair, retreat ! Your drooping flowers need Wholesome refreshment. Down the hedge-row path We hasten home, and only slack our speed To gaze a moment at th' accustom'd gap, That all so unexpectedly presents The clear cerulean prospect down the vale.
Strona 284 - I have turn'd o'er the catalogue of human woes Which sting the heart of man and find none equal. It is the hydra of calamities, The sevenfold death; the jealous are the damn'd. Oh jealousy, each other passion's calm 80 To thee, thou conflagration of the soul! Thou king of torments! Thou grand counterpoise For all the transports beauty can inspire!