The Spirit of the English Magazines (Google eBook)

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Monroe and Francis, 1832
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Page 490 - I am the daughter of earth and water, And the nursling of the sky; I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores ; I change, but I cannot die. For after the rain when, with never a stain, The pavilion of heaven is bare, And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams, Build up the blue dome of air, I silently laugh at my own cenotaph, And out of the caverns of rain, Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb, I arise and unbuild it again.
Page 84 - Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance commits his body To painful labour both by sea and land, To watch the night in storms, the day in cold, Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe ; And craves no other tribute at thy hands But love, fair looks, and true obedience ; Too little payment for so great a debt.
Page 88 - But know ye for certain, that if ye put me to death, ye shall surely bring innocent blood upon yourselves, and upon this city, and upon the inhabitants thereof: for of a truth the Lord hath sent me unto you to speak all these words in your ears.
Page 492 - The wind in the reeds and the rushes, The bees on the bells of thyme, The birds on the myrtle bushes, The cicale above in the lime, And the lizards below in the grass, Were as silent as ever old Tmolus was, Listening to my sweet pipings.
Page 490 - I hang like a roof, The mountains its columns be. The triumphal arch through which I march With hurricane, fire and snow, When the powers of the air are chained to my chair, Is the million-coloured bow ; The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove, While the moist earth was laughing below.
Page 492 - I pursued a maiden and clasped a reed. Gods and men, we are all deluded thus! It breaks in our bosom and then we bleed: All wept, as I think both ye now would, If envy or age had not frozen your blood, At the sorrow of my sweet pipings.
Page 491 - I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me — who knows how? To thy chamber window, Sweet! The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart; — As I must on thine, Oh, beloved as thou art!
Page 491 - O'er the terrible sea, I and thou ? " One boat-cloak did cover The loved and the lover : Their blood beats one measure, They murmur proud pleasure Soft and low ; — While around the lashed ocean, Like mountains in motion, Is withdrawn and uplifted, Sunk, shattered, and shifted To and fro.
Page 491 - The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent stream — The Champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint, It dies upon her heart; — As I must on thine, Oh ! beloved as thou art ! Oh lift me from the grass! I die! I faint! I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale.
Page 491 - Our boat has one sail, And the helmsman is pale ; — A bold pilot I trow, Who should follow us now," — Shouted He— And she cried : " Ply the oar! Put off gaily from shore !" — As she spoke, bolts of death Mixed with hail, specked their path O'er the sea. And from isle, tower and rock, The blue beacon cloud broke, And though dumb in the blast, The red cannon flashed fast From the lee.

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