H. Altemus Company, 1895 - 273 sider
"Lalla Rookh is an Oriental romance by Thomas Moore, published in 1817. The title is taken from the name of the heroine of the frame tale, the daughter of the 17th-century Mughal emperor Aurangzeb. The work consists of four narrative poems with a connecting tale in prose."--Wikipedia
Hvad folk siger - Skriv en anmeldelse
Vi har ikke fundet nogen anmeldelser de normale steder.
Andre udgaver - Se alle
angel arms beautiful beneath bliss blood bowers breath bright broke brow cast charm dark dead dear death deep delight dread dream e'en earth eyes Fadladeen fair fall fear feel felt fierce fire flame flood flowers fresh gardens give glance glory gone half hand happy hath head heard heart Heaven holy hope hour hung King knew Lake Lalla Rookh land leave light lips live look lost maid meet morn never night o'er once pass Peri Persian poet Princess pure rest rich roses round seen shining shone side sigh skies slave sleep smile soon soul sound spirit star stood story sweet sword tears thee thine thou thought throne towers turn twas veil voice wandering warm waters wave wild wings wretch young youth
Side 66 - soon wither'd that hung o'er the wave, But some blossoms were gather'd while freshly they shone, And a dew was distill'd from their flowers that gave All the fragrance of summer, when summer was . gone. Thus memory draws from delight, ere it dies, An essence that breathes of it many a year
Side 233 - Yet, ere it reach the plain below, Breaks into floods, that part forever. Oh, you that have the charge of Love, Keep him in rosy bondage bound, As in the Fields of Bliss above He sits, with flowerets fetter'd round; Loose not a tie that round him clings, -Nor ever let him use his wings ; For
Side 187 - cloudier eyes to shame. But no, 'twas but the minute's dream — A fantasy, — and ere the scream Had half-way pass'd her pallid lips, A death-like swoon, a chill eclipse Of soul and sense its darkness spread Around her, and she sunk as dead. How calm, how beautiful, comes on The stilly hour, when storms are gone
Side 130 - But nought can charm the luckless Peri : Her soul is sad, her wings are weary: Joyless she sees the Sun look down On that great Temple, once his own, Whose lonely columns stand sublime, Flinging their shadows from on high, Like dials which the wizard Time
Side 245 - of the Amra just oped by a bee ; And precious their tears as that rain from the sky, Which turns into pearls as it falls in the sea. Oh, think what the kiss and the smile must be worth When the sigh and the tear are so perfect in bliss ; And own, if there be an Elysium on earth, It is this, it is
Side 118 - Go, seek it, and redeem thy sin — 'Tis sweet to let the Pardon'd in." Rapidly as comets run To the embraces of the Sun, Fleeter than the starry brands Flung at night from angel hands, At those dark and daring sprites Down the blue vault the Peri flies,
Side 132 - Then swift his haggard brow he turn'd To the fair child, who fearless sat, Though never yet hath day-beam burn'd Upon a brow more fierce than that, — Sullenly fierce, a mixture dire, Like thunder-clouds, of gloom and fire, In which the Peri's eye could read
Side 66 - of roses by Bendemeer's stream, And the nightingale sings round it all the day long ; In the time of my childhood 'twas like a sweet dream To sit in the roses and hear the bird's song. That bower and its music I never forget ; But oft when alone, in the bloom of the year, I think — is the nightingale singing there yet? Are
Side 228 - all love and light, Visions by day and feasts by night ! A happier smile illumes each brow, With quicker spread each heart uncloses, And all is ecstasy — for now The Valley holds its Feast of Roses ; The joyous time, when pleasures pour Profusely round, and in their shower Hearts open, like the Season's Rose,
Side 125 - his own. Was safe from this foul midnight's breath. Safe in her father's princely halls, Where the cool airs from fountain falls, Freshly perfumed by many a brand Of the sweet wood from India's land, Were pure as she whose brow they fann'd. But see ! who yonder comes by stealth, This melancholy bower to seek.