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Page 295 - He ordered me to be presented to him at a ball ; and after some sayings peculiarly pleasing from royal lips, as to my own attempts, he talked to me of you and your immortalities : he preferred you to every bard past and present, and asked which of your works pleased me most. It was a difficult question. I answered, I thought the Lay.
Page 48 - To live within himself; she was his life, The ocean to the river of his thoughts, Which terminated all: upon a tone, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow, And his cheek change tempestuously— his heart Unknowing of its cause of agony.
Page 463 - I SPEAK not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name, There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame : But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
Page 487 - Hath waked the poet's sigh! ' The girl who gave to song • What gold could never buy.— My dear Moore, ' I am going to be married— that is, I am accepted*, ' and one usually hopes the rest will follow.
Page 323 - Fair clime! where every season smiles Benignant o'er those blessed isles, Which seen from far Colonna's height, Make glad the heart that hails the sight, And lend to loneliness delight. There, mildly dimpling, Ocean's cheek Reflects the tints of many a peak Caught by the laughing tides that lave These Etlens of the eastern wave...
Page 278 - ... under martial law? depopulate and lay waste all around you? and restore Sherwood Forest as an acceptable gift to the crown, in its former condition of a royal chase and an asylum for outlaws? Are these the remedies for a starving and desperate populace? Will the famished wretch who has braved your bayonets be appalled by your gibbets?
Page 379 - What an odd situation and friendship is ours ! — without one spark of love on either side, and produced by circumstances which in general lead to coldness on one side, and aversion on the other.
Page 564 - Deserved to be dearest of all: In the desert a fountain is springing, In the wide waste there still is a tree, And a bird in the solitude singing, Which speaks to my spirit of thee.