The voyage of the Lady, by the author of 'The three paths'.

Front Cover
 

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 157 - Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish, A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, A forked mountain, or blue promontory With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world, And mock our eyes with air : thou hast seen these signs ; They are black vesper's pageants.
Page 198 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light!
Page 39 - Soft hour ! which wakes the wish and melts the heart Of those who sail the seas, on the first day When they from their sweet friends are torn apart ; Or fills with love the pilgrim on his way As the far bell of vesper makes him start, Seeming to weep the dying day's decay...
Page 271 - O three times less unworthy ! likewise thou Art more through Love, and greater than thy years. The Sun will run his orbit, and the Moon Her circle. Wait, and Love himself will bring The drooping flower of knowledge changed to fruit Of wisdom. Wait ; my faith is large in Time, And that which shapes it to some perfect end.
Page 225 - He dreamed a veiled maid Sate near him, talking in low solemn tones. Her voice was like the voice of his own soul Heard in the calm of thought...
Page 325 - Man, this is one of the most extraordinary, that he shall go on from day to day, from week to week, from month to month.
Page 265 - A WET SHEET AND A FLOWING SEA A WET sheet and a flowing sea, — A wind that follows fast, That fills the white and rustling sail, And bends the gallant mast, — And bends the gallant mast, my boys, While, like the eagle free, Away the good ship flies, and leaves Old England on the lee. O for a soft and gentle wind!
Page 40 - Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour ! The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower. Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd with prayer.

Bibliographic information