The Works of Mrs Hemans;: With a Memoir of Her Life,

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William Blackwood & Sons, ... and Thomas Cadell, London., 1839

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Pagina 37 - I bless thee for the noble heart, The tender and the true, Where mine hath found the happiest rest That e'er fond woman's knew ; I bless thee, faithful friend and guide, For my own, my treasured share, In the mournful secrets of thy soul, In thy sorrow, in thy prayer.
Pagina 105 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale or piny mountain, Or forest, by slow stream or pebbly spring, Or chasms, and watery depths ; all these have vanished ; They live no longer in the faith of reason...
Pagina 63 - The better days of life were ours; The worst can be but mine; The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers, Shall never more be thine.
Pagina 94 - The sky is changed ! — and such a change ! Oh night, And storm, and darkness, ye are wondrous strong, Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light Of a dark eye in woman ! Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among Leaps the live thunder ! Not from one lone cloud, But every mountain now hath found a tongue, And Jura answers, through her misty shroud, Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!
Pagina 319 - Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! Our virgins dance beneath the shade— I see their glorious black eyes shine; But gazing on each glowing maid, My own the burning tear-drop laves, To think such breasts must suckle slaves. Place me on Sunium's...
Pagina 190 - There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, And mine were nothing, had I such to give; But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree, Which living waves where thou didst cease to live, And saw around me the wide field revive With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring Come forth her work of gladness to contrive, With all her reckless birds upon the wing, I turn'd from all she brought to those she could not bring.
Pagina 298 - All this hath somewhat worn me, and may wear, But must be borne. I stoop not to despair ; For I have battled with mine agony, And made me wings wherewith to overfly The narrow circus of my dungeon wall...
Pagina 176 - And when they came to Marah, they could not drink of the waters of Marah, for they were bitter : therefore the name of it was called Marah.
Pagina 225 - When I remember all' The friends so linked together I've seen around me fall Like leaves in wintry weather, I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet hall deserted, Whose lights are fled Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed.
Pagina 238 - Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart's echoes render No song when the spirit is mute: — No song but sad dirges, Like the wind through a ruined cell, Or the mournful surges That ring the dead seaman's knell.

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