Florence, Volumen5611858 |
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Página 2
... poor little Florence ; God knows whether I can guard my winsome fairy from the bitter wind of poverty when I scarce know where to lay my head . Corragio ! the battle must be fought single- handed , the victory must be won ! " He drew ...
... poor little Florence ; God knows whether I can guard my winsome fairy from the bitter wind of poverty when I scarce know where to lay my head . Corragio ! the battle must be fought single- handed , the victory must be won ! " He drew ...
Página 3
... poor fellow ! you told me that I must sacrifice my selfish pleasure , and must not ride for a long time . And I did not ride for a whole month . I understand you perfectly , papa . " Mr. Dudley smiled faintly at the simplicity which ...
... poor fellow ! you told me that I must sacrifice my selfish pleasure , and must not ride for a long time . And I did not ride for a whole month . I understand you perfectly , papa . " Mr. Dudley smiled faintly at the simplicity which ...
Página 12
... poor neighbours , who had suffered severely , notwithstanding the strenuous exertions of their rector , during the years the manor had been deserted or occasionally let , for the shooting season , to some sporting squire . One thing was ...
... poor neighbours , who had suffered severely , notwithstanding the strenuous exertions of their rector , during the years the manor had been deserted or occasionally let , for the shooting season , to some sporting squire . One thing was ...
Página 14
... poor vied with each other in expressions of the warmest sympathy . There were two individuals , however , whose feelings of regret were not confined to words ; these were Dr. Leicester , the rector of the parish , and the Earl of ...
... poor vied with each other in expressions of the warmest sympathy . There were two individuals , however , whose feelings of regret were not confined to words ; these were Dr. Leicester , the rector of the parish , and the Earl of ...
Página 15
... poor uncle lamented his daughter's death . He grew rest- less and discontented ; he pined for change of scene , craved some all - engrossing employment . He went up to London , and sought oblivion in " " * " * * mixing * · - 367 ...
... poor uncle lamented his daughter's death . He grew rest- less and discontented ; he pined for change of scene , craved some all - engrossing employment . He went up to London , and sought oblivion in " " * " * * mixing * · - 367 ...
Términos y frases comunes
admiration arms Augusta beauty bitter blessed blushed bride bright charms cheek child Colonel colour cottage countenance cried Florence Dark Ladie daughter Doctor door drew Dudley's Emrys Castle Evelyn faint fair father favourite fear feeling fell Florence Dudley Florence rose Florence's eyes flowers gentleman gently Geraldine Percival girl glance grace Greville Beaumont hand happy head heart Heaven Herbert Dudley heroine heroine's honour hour JAMES BLACKWOOD Lady Caroline Lady Cecilia Lady Geraldine Lady Illington Lady Mary Temple Lady Wentworth ladyship laughed Leicester light lingered lips looked Lord Glenorme Lord Ullswater Lord Wentworth Madoc Maiden's Tower mamma marriage Miss Dudley Miss Seymour morning mother murmured never night noble pale papa passed paused Phoebe poor pride Puck Rector rence reply rose sighed silence smile spirit spoke stood sweet tears thee thou tion tone trembling truth turned voice Wentworth Castle Wilderness words young lady دو
Pasajes populares
Página 8 - Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.
Página 188 - Light quirks of music, broken and uneven, Make the soul dance upon a jig to heaven. On painted ceilings you devoutly stare, Where sprawl the saints of Verrio or Laguerre, On gilded clouds in fair expansion lie, And bring all paradise before your eye.
Página 60 - What soul was his, when, from the naked top Of some bold headland, he beheld the sun Rise up, and bathe the world in light...
Página 94 - Still to be neat, still to be drest, As you were going to a feast ; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art's hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face; That makes simplicity a grace ; Robes loosely flowing, hair as free : Such sweet neglect more taketh me, Than all the adulteries of art ; They strike mine eyes, but not my heart.
Página 1 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand ! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Página 50 - With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face. I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his shield a burning brand; And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land. I told her how he pined: and ah! The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love, Interpreted my own.
Página 85 - 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.
Página 11 - The time would e'er be o'er, And I on thee should look my last, And thou shouldst smile no more! And still upon that face I look, And think 'twill smile again ; And still the thought I will not brook, That I must look in vain ! But when I speak— thou dost not say What thou ne'er...
Página 211 - Mortals, that would follow me, Love Virtue ; she alone is free. She can teach ye how to climb Higher than the sphery chime; Or, if Virtue feeble were, Heaven itself would stoop to her.
Página 79 - The story of Cambuscan bold, Of Camball, and of Algarsife, And who had Canace to wife, That owned the virtuous ring and glass, And of the wondrous horse of brass On which the Tartar king did ride; And if aught else great bards beside In sage and solemn tunes have sung, Of turneys, and of trophies hung, Of forests, and enchantments drear, Where more is meant than meets the ear.