Comentarios de usuarios - Escribir una reseña
No hemos encontrado ninguna reseña en los sitios habituales.
Otras ediciones - Ver todo
amused Anacreon appeared arms arrived asked Bank Bank of France beauty Bereny Blake Bob Johnstone Burridge called Carlists Creton cried dear delight door Duke of Saxony Ebro enemy entered exclaimed eyes face fair feeling Filfla fire Gaetano gentleman Greencheese hand head heard heart honour horses hour Inkpen Jack Johnson Jemmy John Dory lady Larraga laugh Ledbury length light Lodosa look Lord Lumbier manner miles Monsieur Cacofogo morning mother never night once Paddy Pamplona party passed poor present pretty Quartier Latin replied returned Richard Savage round Savage scene seated seemed seen side sleep smile soon stood suddenly surgeon Tafalla tell thee thing thought tion took town turned Tyrconnel Varasok village walked whilst wife wine woman words young
Página 36 - Excelsior! ,O stay,' the maiden said, ,and rest Thy weary head upon this breast!' A tear stood in his bright blue eye, But still he answered with a sigh, Excelsior! ,Beware the pine-tree's withered branch! Beware the awful avalanche!' This was the peasant's last Goodnight. A voice replied, far up the height, Excelsior! At break of day, as heavenward The pious monks of Saint Bernard Uttered the oft-repeated prayer, A voice cried through the startled air, Excelsior! A...
Página 651 - Of the stern agony and shroud and pall And breathless darkness and the narrow house Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart, Go forth under the open sky and list To Nature's teachings, while from all around — Earth and her waters and the depths of air — Comes a still voice...
Página 36 - In happy homes he saw the light Of household fires gleam warm and bright; Above, the spectral glaciers shone, And from his lips escaped a groan, Excelsior! "Try not the pass!
Página 36 - A traveller, by the faithful hound, Half-buried in the snow was found, Still grasping in his hand of ice That banner with the strange device Excelsior ! There in the twilight cold and gray, Lifeless, but beautiful, he lay, And from the sky, serene and far, A voice fell, like a falling star, Excelsior ! POEMS ON SLAVERY.
Página 466 - But that which most doth take my Muse and me, Is a pure cup of rich Canary wine, Which is the Mermaid's now, but shall be mine: Of which had Horace or Anacreon tasted, Their lives, as do their lines, till now had lasted.
Página 36 - The shades of night were falling fast, As through an Alpine village passed A youth, who bore, 'mid snow and ice, A banner with the strange device, Excelsior ! His brow was sad ; his eye beneath, Flashed like a falchion from its sheath, And like a silver clarion rung The accents of that unknown tongue, Excelsior...
Página 591 - Front, flank, and rear, the squadrons sweep To break the Scottish circle deep That fought around their king. But yet, though thick the shafts as snow, Though charging knights like whirlwinds go, Though billmen ply the ghastly blow, Unbroken was the ring; The stubborn spearmen still made good Their dark impenetrable wood, Each stepping where his comrade stood The instant that he fell.
Página 78 - ... I, gentlemen of the jury ; that he wears very fine clothes, much finer clothes than you or I, gentlemen of the jury ; that he has abundance of money in his pocket, much more money than you or I, gentlemen of the jury ; but, gentlemen of the jury, is it not a very hard case.
Página 208 - Ruthless Tudor's bloated form Rides on the blast, and guides the storm ; I hear the sacrilegious cry, ' Down with the nests, and the rooks will fly ! ' Down ! down they come — a fearful fall — • Arch, and pillar, and roof-tree, and all, Stained pane, and sculptured stone, There they lie on the greensward strown — Mouldering walls remain alone.
Página 463 - Graces, The Goddesses of Memory and Wit, Which there in order take their several places; In whose dear bosom, sweet delicious Love Lays down his quiver, which he once did bear, Since he that blessed paradise did prove; And leaves his mother's lap, to sport him there. Let others strive to entertain with words! My soul is of a braver mettle made: I hold that vile, which vulgar wit affords, In me's that faith which Time cannot invade!