The Siege of Valencia: A Dramatic Poem ; The Last Constantine : with Other Poems

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Page 305 - Ye of the rose-cheek and dew-bright eye, And the bounding footstep, to meet me fly, With the lyre, and the wreath, and the joyous lay, Come forth to the sunshine, I may not stay...
Page 64 - Constantine, but which in a few hours had been stripped of the pomp of royalty. A melancholy reflection on the vicissitudes of human greatness forced itself on his mind, and he repeated an elegant distich of Persian poetry: 'The spider has wove his web in the Imperial palace, and the owl hath sung her watch-song on the towers of Afrasiab.
Page 304 - I have sent through the wood-paths a gentle sigh, And called out each voice of the deep blue sky, From the night-bird's lay through the starry time, In the groves of the soft Hesperian clime, To the swan's wild note by the Iceland lakes, When the dark fir-bough into verdure breaks.
Page 297 - And the palm-trees yield no shade. But let the angry sun From heaven look fiercely red, Unfelt by those whose task is done ! — There slumber England's dead. The hurricane hath might Along the Indian shore, And far by Ganges' banks at night Is heard the tiger's roar.
Page 60 - Marmora, which was known to the ancients by the denomination of Propontis. The navigation from the issue of the Bosphorus to the entrance of the Hellespont is about one hundred and twenty miles. Those who steer their westward course through the middle of the Propontis may at once descry the high lands of Thrace and Bithynia, and never lose sight of the lofty summit of Mount Olympus, covered with eternal snows.
Page 223 - Calm on the bosom of thy God, Fair spirit, rest thee now ! E'en while with us thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. Dust to its narrow house beneath ! Soul to its place on high ! They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die.
Page 307 - midst the blooms of the morn may dwell, I tarry no longer — farewell, farewell ! The summer is coming, on soft winds borne, Ye may press the grape, ye may bind the corn '. For me, I depart to a brighter shore, Ye are mark'd by care, ye are mine no more. I go where the loved who have left you dwell, And the flowers are not Death's — fare ye well, farewell ! THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
Page 120 - There is none, In all this cold and hollow world, no fount Of deep, strong, deathless love, save that within A mother's heart.
Page 286 - Where the mountain-people stood. And the mighty rocks came bounding down, Their startled foes among, With a joyous whirl from the summit thrown, — Oh, the herdsman's arm is strong! They came, like lauwine...
Page 303 - I have passed o'er the hills of the stormy North, And the larch has hung all his tassels forth ; The fisher is out on the sunny sea, And the rein-deer bounds through the pasture free ; And the pine has a fringe of softer green, And the moss looks bright where my step has been.

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