Lalla Rookh, with 69 illustr. by J. Tenniel

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Seite 298 - Alas ! — how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love ! Hearts that the world in 'vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied ; That stood the storm, when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea, When heaven was all tranquillity...
Seite 61 - There's a bower of roses by Bendemeer's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream, To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song.
Seite 145 - Now, upon Syria's land of roses Softly the light of Eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted Lebanon ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
Seite 62 - And a dew was distill'd from their flowers, that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, \ ".> An essence that breathes of it many a year...
Seite 135 - Oh ! if there be, on this earthly sphere, " A boon, an offering Heaven holds dear, ' 'Tis the last libation Liberty draws " From the heart that bleeds and breaks in her cause...
Seite 101 - And they believe him !— oh ! the lover may Distrust that look which steals his soul away ; — The babe may cease to think that it can play With heaven's rainbow ;— alchymists may doubt The shining gold their crucible gives out ; — But Faith, fanatic Faith, once wedded fast To some dear falsehood, hugs it to the last.
Seite 216 - Dead-Sea fruits, that tempt the eye, But turn to ashes on the lips ! His country's curse, his children's shame, Outcast of virtue, peace, and fame, May he, at last, with lips of flame On the parch'd desert thirsting die, — While lakes, that shone in mockery nigh...
Seite 298 - And ruder words will soon rush in To spread the breach that words begin ; And eyes forget the gentle ray They wore in courtship's smiling day ; And voices lose the tone that shed A tenderness round all they said...
Seite 147 - mid the roses lay, She saw a wearied man dismount From his hot steed, and on the brink Of a small imaret's rustic fount Impatient fling him down to drink.
Seite 151 - thou blessed child ! When, young and haply pure as thou, I look'd and pray'd like thee ; but now — " He hung his head ; each nobler aim And hope and feeling, which had slept From boyhood's hour, that instant came Fresh o'er him, and he wept — he wept ! Blest tears of soul-felt penitence ! In whose benign, redeeming flow Is felt the first, the only sense Of guiltless joy that guilt can know.

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