Eva; or, The bridal spectre [by mrs. W. Johnson].G. Virtue, 1830 - 309 |
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Strona 2
... mother during her illness , now broke out into the most violent exclamations of sorrow , and was with difficulty prevented from flinging himself into the grave . Agnes , a young girl , who was brought up by Lady Seymour , and whom her ...
... mother during her illness , now broke out into the most violent exclamations of sorrow , and was with difficulty prevented from flinging himself into the grave . Agnes , a young girl , who was brought up by Lady Seymour , and whom her ...
Strona 15
... mother's , and particularly valued by his father on that account , he cannot wear ; he must intend turning them into money ; and I swear by yon glorious firmament , I would sooner have given half my estate , rather than the son of Sir ...
... mother's , and particularly valued by his father on that account , he cannot wear ; he must intend turning them into money ; and I swear by yon glorious firmament , I would sooner have given half my estate , rather than the son of Sir ...
Strona 44
... mother's wedding ring , " continued Edmund , and may it prove an omen of happiness to thee , as it was to her , for she lived most happily with my father . ” " Oh ! do not break a relic so precious , " Roselma falteringly said , " wear ...
... mother's wedding ring , " continued Edmund , and may it prove an omen of happiness to thee , as it was to her , for she lived most happily with my father . ” " Oh ! do not break a relic so precious , " Roselma falteringly said , " wear ...
Strona 60
... mother , the " A very odd request indeed , " said Sir Charles . " I am requested to deliver a child to her mother , without being informed whom that mother is , or where she is to be found . Why , my good woman , do you not deliver her ...
... mother , the " A very odd request indeed , " said Sir Charles . " I am requested to deliver a child to her mother , without being informed whom that mother is , or where she is to be found . Why , my good woman , do you not deliver her ...
Strona 62
... mother's jewels , and yet it seems your intention is to let us both die for want . ' Curse the jewels ! ' he replied , ' I wish the great devil had flown away with them , then I should not have been troubled with you , and that plaguy ...
... mother's jewels , and yet it seems your intention is to let us both die for want . ' Curse the jewels ! ' he replied , ' I wish the great devil had flown away with them , then I should not have been troubled with you , and that plaguy ...
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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!