De Roberval: A Drama ; Also the Emigration of the Fairies, and the Triumph of Constancy, a Romaunt

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J. & A. McMillan, 1888 - Manuscripts, Canadian - 192 pages
 

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Page 55 - Though tricked out in a somewhat antic guise. By heathen Venus, what a shape it has ! If nymph it be, and not an airy form Evoked from out the rainbows of the place:1 Small head well set, arched neck, svelt frame and limbs, Lissome as steel, as active as a deer, And skin no duskier than I oft have seen Among the peasant maids of warm Provence, At time of grapes, when browned by vintage sun ; It lives, it moves, it answers to my gaze, Yet I have heard these Dryades are dumb; If this should be a woman,...
Page 147 - O sea ! O death at once and the grave, And sorrow in passing, O cruel wave ! Let the resonant sea-caves ring, And the sorrowful surges sing, For the dead men rest but restlessly. We do keep account of them, And sing an ocean requiem For the brave.
Page 93 - s eerie cry, Whoo-oop ! whoo-oop ! As like a fiend he flitteth by ; The ox to stall, the fowl to coop, The old man to his nightcap warm, Young men and maids to slumbers light. — Sweet Mary, keep our souls from harm ! Good-night ! good-night...
Page 146 - A GALLANT fleet sailed out to sea With the pennons streaming merrily ; On the hulls the tempest lit, And the great ships split In the gale, And the foaming fierce sea-horses Hurled the fragments in their forces To the ocean deeps, Where the kraken sleeps, And the whale. The men are in the ledges...
Page 166 - ... simpler virtues" are an inevitable result of a strenuous pioneering environment in which anything more subtle would have appeared unforgivable luxury and in which the demands on individual fortitude were so great that complex social analysis was entirely out of the question. The result is such verse as: They saw a strong-built mother boiling porridge, All in a chamber somewhat bare but neat (The goodman with his gun had gone to forage, While the goodwife kept home alive and feat), And, helping...
Page 59 - Though this be nought but soldiers' tap, None better wine none ne'er did see, It riped on our own crofts mayhap, So here's a health to thee, to me And fair Lorraine, Again — Lorraine! Chorus: May he be shot that shirks the can, Quick, drain the draught out every man ! Enter Ohnawa; soldiers crowd around her. 1st Soldier. Whom have we here ? This is a shapely wench. 2nd Soldier. Clean-limbed.
Page 41 - I saw a savage once from Africa; Black as a lump of charcoal, kettle black, But fat as any high Church dignitary, And greasy as a friar mendicant; Bohemians bought her for a kind of show, As a descendant of the Queen of Sheba.
Page 60 - Rob. What then, my wild fawn, has't indeed come in, A live pawn for thy people ? Then I hope 'Twill be long time ere they make matters up, So that we still may keep thee hostage here. But say, do practised warriors, shrewd and cunning, Send such bright eyes as thine to armed camp, To glancing catch full note of our weak points Or of our strength ? We hang up spies, Ohnawa.
Page 45 - We spread our wings and left them to their fate. On this cruel note the author concludes Margaret's story. She apparently pays for her sin by remaining a prisoner on this rocky island for the rest of her life. The play ends with De Roberval and his colonists leaving Canada, and Hunter-Duvar...
Page 62 - ... music, enfans, in the woods ? No brave high ballad that your warriors sing To cheer them on a march ? Ohn. We have music, But our braves sing not. We have tribal bards Who see in dreams things to make music of, They tell our squaws, and the good mothers croon Them over to their little ones asleep. Rob. Sing me a forest song, one of thine own. (Ohnawa goes to a drum and beats softly with her hand, humming the while). This verily is music without words. Explain, now, what its purport most may mean....

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