Miniature Romances from the German: With Other Prolusions of Light LiteratureC. C. Little & J. Brown, 1841 - 324 pages |
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Page viii
... beautiful . " The author , to whom we are so much indebted for these Specimens and other Literary Remains , and to whom we hope to be more and more indebted , as well for these labours of love as for those of his own classi- cal genius ...
... beautiful . " The author , to whom we are so much indebted for these Specimens and other Literary Remains , and to whom we hope to be more and more indebted , as well for these labours of love as for those of his own classi- cal genius ...
Page 13
... beautiful evening , it may now be many hundred years ago , there was a worthy old fisherman who sat before his door mending his nets . Now the corner of the world where he dwelt , was ex- ceedingly picturesque . The green turf on which ...
... beautiful evening , it may now be many hundred years ago , there was a worthy old fisherman who sat before his door mending his nets . Now the corner of the world where he dwelt , was ex- ceedingly picturesque . The green turf on which ...
Page 15
... beautiful . The white barb that bore the knight , was more slenderly built than battle - horses usually are ; and he touched the turf with a step so light and elastic , that the green and flower - woven carpet seemed hardly to receive ...
... beautiful . The white barb that bore the knight , was more slenderly built than battle - horses usually are ; and he touched the turf with a step so light and elastic , that the green and flower - woven carpet seemed hardly to receive ...
Page 18
... beautiful , you friendly guest ! how have you reached our poor cottage at last ? Have you been obliged , for years and years , to wander about the world , before you could catch one glimpse of our nook ? Do you come out of that wild ...
... beautiful , you friendly guest ! how have you reached our poor cottage at last ? Have you been obliged , for years and years , to wander about the world , before you could catch one glimpse of our nook ? Do you come out of that wild ...
Page 19
... beautiful arms against her sides , and cried , placing herself directly before the fisherman : " He shall not tell his story , father ? he shall But it is my will ; he shall ! he shall , stop him who not ? may ! " Thus speaking , she ...
... beautiful arms against her sides , and cried , placing herself directly before the fisherman : " He shall not tell his story , father ? he shall But it is my will ; he shall ! he shall , stop him who not ? may ! " Thus speaking , she ...
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Common terms and phrases
Almadora amid ancholy appeared beams beautiful Bertalda Bertha Berthold blessed Brandan's breathed bright burst C. C. LITTLE CHAPTER cottage courser cried Danube dawn dear death deep delight door dream ducats earth emotion Eumela evil exclaimed eyes Fairylore father fear feeling felt forest frostwork gave gazed gondolier groschen hand heard heart heaven hope horse hour Huldbrand imagination island knight Kühleborn lady laugh light Logoul look Maduba magic magic illusion magician Mediterranean Sea mind moon morning mountain Muzoil mysterious never old fisherman Palermo perceived Phantasmion portmanteau pray priest ravine replied returned Richard rushed S. T. Coleridge scene seemed Seraphina Simplicio smile soon soul spirit spoke stept stood strange stranger stream sweet tears tenderness terror thing thought trembling truth Undine Undine's vial voice watchmen waves weeping WERTER whispered wife wild wish wonder words young
Popular passages
Page 313 - ALL thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower. The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve!
Page 323 - To him who in the love of nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language; for his gayer hours She has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
Page 315 - 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.
Page 205 - First the flaming red Sprung vivid forth ; the tawny orange next ; And next delicious yellow ; by whose side Fell the kind beams of all-refreshing green. Then the pure blue, that swells autumnal skies, Ethereal played ; and then, of sadder hue, Emerged the deepened indigo, as when The heavy-skirted evening droops with frost ; While the last gleamings of refracted light Died in the fainting violet away.
Page 319 - She pressed me with a meek embrace; And bending back her head, looked up, And gazed upon my face. 'Twas partly love, and partly fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel, than see, The swelling of her heart.
Page 317 - All impulses of soul and sense Had thrill'd my guileless Genevieve; The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve; And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherish'd long!
Page 317 - He leaped amid a murderous band, And saved from outrage worse than death The Lady of the Land! And how she wept, and...
Page 320 - The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I.
Page 313 - And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve ! She leant against the armed man, The statue of the armed knight ; She stood and listen'd to my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope ! my joy ! my Genevieve ! She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve.
Page 57 - The element moves us, and, again, is obedient to our will while we live, though it scatters us like dust when we die ; and as we have nothing to trouble us, we are as merry as nightingales, little gold-fishes, and other pretty children of nature. But all beings aspire to rise in the scale of existence higher than they are. It was therefore the wish of my father, who is a powerful water-prince in the Mediterranean Sea, that his only daughter should become possessed of a soul, although she should have...