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An Address to the Literary Members of the University
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ADDRESS appear arms assertion assistance authors beautiful bell beneath bright charge Christabel Coleridge College continue copy Correspondent COUNSELLOR BICKERTON criticism dark discover dream eyes fair FARRAGO father fear fell Ferry genius Geraldine give gone hath head heart honour hope hour June knell lady language late learned leave Libel literary live look Lord Byron LUCUBRATIONS maid marks mean meet Members merits mind nature never night Number o'er observed Oxford pain pass passages Poem poetry possess praying present Printers readers rose round shed side sight Sir Leoline sleep sorrow soul sound spirit stand Stanza stood style sweet talent tears tell term thee thine thou thought tion University Vagabondo vision vivimus weep wind wish writers
Página 14 - A little child, a limber elf, Singing, dancing to itself, A fairy thing with red round cheeks That always finds, and never seeks, Makes such a vision to the sight As fills a father's eyes with light...
Página 13 - So deeply had she drunken in That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, That all her features were resigned To this sole image in her mind : And passively did imitate That look of dull and treacherous hate...
Página 6 - Off, woman, off! this hour is mine Though thou her guardian spirit be, Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me.' Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side, And raised to heaven her eyes so blue Alas! said she, this ghastly ride Dear lady! it hath wildered you!
Página 5 - And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet, Did thus pursue her answer meet:— My sire is of a noble line, And my name is Geraldine...
Página 8 - Large tears that leave the lashes bright ! And oft the while she seems to smile As infants at a sudden light ! Yea, she doth smile, and she doth weep, Like a youthful hermitess, Beauteous in a wilderness, Who, praying always, prays in sleep.
Página 15 - There is not wind enough in the air To move away the ringlet curl From the lovely lady's cheek — There is n^ttt wind enough to twirl The one red leaf, the last of its clan, That dances as often as dance it can, Hanging so light, and hanging so high, On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.
Página 9 - EACH matin bell, the Baron saith, Knells us back to a world of death. These words Sir Leoline first said, When he rose and found his lady dead: These words Sir Leoline will say, Many a morn to his dying day!
Página 11 - No cause for her distressful cry; But yet for her dear lady's sake I stooped, methought, the dove to take, When lo!