Dramatic Tales, Volume 1

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James Ballantyne and Company, 1817 - Scottish literature

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Page 13 - Alone on the mountains poor Mona reclined, Her locks hung neglected, and waved in the wind; On her face was a smile, though her reason had fled, And a tear on the wild-rose that hung o'er her head. " The dew of the mountains, the wind and the rain, Will ne'er cool the fever that burns in her brain ; The Spring may the beauties of nature restore, But will beam on the mind of poor Mona no more. "JAMES HOGG.
Page 5 - And the cold sweat falls like drops of dew, Toil him and moil him again and again, Sicken his heart and madden his brain; Till strength, and sense, and life depart, As I tear the last pulse from the white man's heart. William Wordsworth (1770-1850), 'To Toussaint L'Ouverture', 'September 1, 1802...
Page 5 - Prick and pierce him in nerve and spleen, By the arrows felt, but never seen ; Then by flame unbodied burn him; Then on racking windlass turn him, Till his temples quiver and ache anew, And the cold sweat bell like drops of dew.
Page 28 - I have got ! Confound her !— -witch ! — who can this be ? Ben. Mine has neither root nor branch -r A dry, bare, barren wilderness mine is ! Look at it, beauteous Maldie — this is you.

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