The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, 1854 - 183 pages |
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Page 8
... falling on them like a thunderbolt , She trampled some beneath her horses ' heels , And some were whelm'd with missiles of the wall , And some were push'd with lances from the rock , And part were drown'd within the whirling brook : O ...
... falling on them like a thunderbolt , She trampled some beneath her horses ' heels , And some were whelm'd with missiles of the wall , And some were push'd with lances from the rock , And part were drown'd within the whirling brook : O ...
Page 15
... fall . For so , my mother said , the story ran . And , truly , waking dreams were , more or less , An old and strange affection of the house . Myself too had weird seizures , Heaven knows what : On a sudden in the midst of men and day ...
... fall . For so , my mother said , the story ran . And , truly , waking dreams were , more or less , An old and strange affection of the house . Myself too had weird seizures , Heaven knows what : On a sudden in the midst of men and day ...
Page 26
... falling On silver anvils , and the splash and stir Of fountains spouted up and showering down In meshes of the jasmine and the rose : And all about us peal'd the nightingale , Rapt in her song , and careless of the snare . There stood a ...
... falling On silver anvils , and the splash and stir Of fountains spouted up and showering down In meshes of the jasmine and the rose : And all about us peal'd the nightingale , Rapt in her song , and careless of the snare . There stood a ...
Page 36
... falling in a land Of promise ; fruit would follow . Deep , indeed , Their debt of thanks to her who first had dared To leap the rotten pales of prejudice , Disyoke their necks from custom , and assert None lordlier than themselves but ...
... falling in a land Of promise ; fruit would follow . Deep , indeed , Their debt of thanks to her who first had dared To leap the rotten pales of prejudice , Disyoke their necks from custom , and assert None lordlier than themselves but ...
Page 40
... , Sir ? love - whispers may not breathe Within this vestal limit , and how should I , Who am not mine , say , live : the thunderbolt Hangs silent ; but prepare : I speak ; it falls . ' ' Yet pause , ' I said : ' for 40 THE PRINCESS ;
... , Sir ? love - whispers may not breathe Within this vestal limit , and how should I , Who am not mine , say , live : the thunderbolt Hangs silent ; but prepare : I speak ; it falls . ' ' Yet pause , ' I said : ' for 40 THE PRINCESS ;
Common terms and phrases
ALEXANDER DYCE answer'd Arac arms ask'd babe betwixt Blow boys brows call'd child CHRISTOPHER WORDSWORTH cloth COLERIDGE'S cried Cyril dark daughter dead dear death DOVER STREET dream dropt dying EDITION EDWARD MOXON enemies have fall'n enter'd eyes face fair father fight Florian flying follow'd foolscap 8vo gain'd girl hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven HISTORY OF EGYPT king kiss'd knew Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa morning mother moved night noble o'er ourselves peace POEMS POETICAL Portrait and Vignette price 16s price 68 Prince Princess Princess Ida Psyche's rapt rode roll'd rose sang seem'd shadow shame shook song spake speak spoke star stept stood strange sweet talk'd thee THOMAS CAMPBELL thou thought thro turn'd vext voice volume 8vo wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Winter's tale woman women
Popular passages
Page 66 - And thinking of the days that are no more. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 160 - She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words; And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, Sit side by side, full-summ'd in all their powers, Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, Self-reverent each and reverencing each, Distinct in individualities, But like each other ev'n as those who love. Then comes the statelier Eden back to men: Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste...
Page 67 - On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Page 162 - And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Page 64 - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying. Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 105 - And roughly spake My father : ' Tut, you know them not, the girls. Boy, when I hear you prate I almost think That idiot legend credible. Look you, sir ! Man is the hunter; woman is his game. The sleek and shining creatures of the chase, We hunt them for the beauty of their skins ; They love us for it, and we ride them down.
Page 66 - TEARS, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Page 160 - Yet in the long years liker must they grow; The man be more of woman, she of man; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind ; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words...
Page 157 - And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him; by the happy threshold, he, Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, Or red with spirted purple of the vats, Or foxlike in the vine ; nor cares to walk With Death and Morning on the silver horns, Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine, Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice, That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : But follow; let the torrent dance...
Page 64 - O, hark, O, hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O, sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky. They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul. And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.