The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, Dover Street, 1851 - 182 |
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Strona 128
... trust Since our arms fail'd - this Egypt - plague of men ! Almost our maids were better at their homes , Than thus man - girdled here : indeed I think Our chiefest comfort is the little child Of one unworthy mother ; which she left ...
... trust Since our arms fail'd - this Egypt - plague of men ! Almost our maids were better at their homes , Than thus man - girdled here : indeed I think Our chiefest comfort is the little child Of one unworthy mother ; which she left ...
Strona 148
... trust that there is no one hurt to death , For your wild whim and was it then for this , : Was it for this we gave our palace up Where we withdrew from summer heats and state , And had our wine and chess beneath the planes , And many a ...
... trust that there is no one hurt to death , For your wild whim and was it then for this , : Was it for this we gave our palace up Where we withdrew from summer heats and state , And had our wine and chess beneath the planes , And many a ...
Strona 150
... with men . Ah false but dear , Dear traitor too much loved , why ? -why ? -Yet see Before these kings we embrace you yet once more With all forgiveness , all oblivion , And trust not love you less . And now , 150 THE PRINCESS ;
... with men . Ah false but dear , Dear traitor too much loved , why ? -why ? -Yet see Before these kings we embrace you yet once more With all forgiveness , all oblivion , And trust not love you less . And now , 150 THE PRINCESS ;
Strona 151
A Medley Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. And trust not love you less . And now , O Sire , Grant me your son , to nurse , to wait upon him , Like mine own brother . For my debt to him , This nightmare weight of gratitude , I know it ...
A Medley Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson. And trust not love you less . And now , O Sire , Grant me your son , to nurse , to wait upon him , Like mine own brother . For my debt to him , This nightmare weight of gratitude , I know it ...
Strona 173
... he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood , and trust in all things high Comes easy to him , and tho ' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay . ' ' But I , ' 6 Said Ida , tremulously A MEDLEY . 173.
... he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood , and trust in all things high Comes easy to him , and tho ' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay . ' ' But I , ' 6 Said Ida , tremulously A MEDLEY . 173.
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ALFRED TENNYSON answer'd Arac arms beat betwixt blood blow break breast breathe brows call'd cataract Celt child cried Cyril dark dash'd dead dear death deep dipt doubt DOVER STREET dream dropt dying earth EDWARD MOXON eyes face fair faith fall'n fancy father fear Florian flower flying grief half hall hand happy head hear heard heart Heaven hills hour king Lady Psyche land light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa mind moon morning mother move Muses night noble o'er once peace Prince Princess Princess Ida rapt Ring rose round sang seem'd shadow shame sleep song sorrow soul spake speak spirit spoke star stept stood strange sweet talk'd tears thee thine things thou thought thro touch'd trumpet truth turn'd unto vext voice wassail wild wild bells wind Winter's tale woman words
Popularne fragmenty
Strona 1 - I held it truth, with him who sings To one clear harp in divers tones, That men may rise on stepping-stones Of their dead selves to higher things.
Strona 78 - THE wish, that of the living whole No life may fail beyond the grave ; Derives it not from what we have The likest God within the soul ? Are God and Nature then at strife, That Nature lends such evil dreams ? So careful of the type she seems, So careless of the single life...
Strona 73 - THE splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story : The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying O hark, O hear!
Strona 76 - Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete; That not a worm is cloven in vain; That not a moth with vain desire Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire, Or but subserves another's gain.
Strona 76 - ... Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Strona 76 - Oh yet we trust that somehow good Will be the final goal of ill, To pangs of nature, sins of will, Defects of doubt, and taints of blood ; That nothing walks with aimless feet ; That not one life shall be destroyed, Or cast as rubbish to the void, When God hath made the pile complete...
Strona 186 - I trust I have not wasted breath: I think we are not wholly brain, Magnetic mockeries; not in vain, Like Paul with beasts, I fought with Death; Not only cunning casts in clay: Let Science prove we are, and then What matters Science unto men, At least to me? I would not stay.
Strona 76 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Strona 69 - That each, who seems a separate whole, Should move his rounds, and fusing all The skirts of self again, should fall Remerging in the general Soul, Is faith as vague as all unsweet: Eternal form shall still divide The eternal soul from all beside; And I shall know him when we meet...