The Romance of Beauseincourt: An Episode Extracted from the Retrospect of Miriam Monfort

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G.W. Carleton & Company, 1867 - 456 Seiten

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Seite 287 - I smile, And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions.
Seite 73 - Again she saw that bosom old, Again she felt that bosom cold, And drew in her breath with a hissing sound...
Seite 34 - NIGHTINGALE ! thou surely art A creature of a " fiery heart " : These notes of thine, they pierce and pierce ; Tumultuous harmony and fierce ! Thou sing'st as if the God of wine Had helped thee to a Valentine ; A song in mockery and despite Of shades, and dews, and silent night ; And steady bliss, and all the loves Now sleeping in these peaceful groves.
Seite 216 - A jest's prosperity lies in the ear • Of him that hears it, never in the tongue Of him that makes it : then, if sickly ears, Deaf 'd with the clamours of their own dear groans.
Seite 287 - What other angel seek I ? To this heart, To this unerring heart, will I submit it, Will ask thy love, which has the power to bless The happy man alone, averted ever From the disquieted and...
Seite 275 - My pulse, as yours, doth temperately keep time, And makes as healthful music : it is not madness That I have utter'd : bring me to the test, And I the matter will re-word ; which madness Would gambol from.
Seite 34 - NIGHTINGALE ! thou surely art A creature of a fiery heart : These notes of thine — they pierce and pierce ; Tumultuous harmony and fierce ! Thou sing'st as if the god of wine Had helped thee to a valentine : A song in mockery and despite Of shades, and dews, and silent night, And steady bliss, and all the loves Now sleeping in these peaceful groves, I heard a stock-dove sing or say His homely tale this very day, His voice was buried among trees.
Seite 287 - O ! he stood beside me, like my youth, Transformed for me the real to a dream, Clothing the palpable and the familiar With golden exhalations of the dawn. Whatever fortunes wait my future toils, The beautiful is vanished — and returns not.
Seite 356 - ... the building of the tower of Babel and the confusion of tongues...
Seite 369 - My teeth in darkness till returning morn, Then cursed myself till sunset ; — I have pray'd For madness as a blessing — 'tis denied me. I have affronted death — but in the war Of elements the waters shrunk from me, And fatal things pass'd harmless...

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