Nan Darrell; or, The gipsy mother, by the author of 'The heiress'.

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1839
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Page 6 - That clustered round her head. She had a rustic, woodland air, And she was wildly clad: Her eyes were fair, and very fair ; — Her beauty made me glad. "Sisters and brothers, little Maid, How many may you be?" "How many? Seven in all," she said, And wondering looked at me.
Page 8 - O'Connor's child, I was the bud Of Erin's royal tree of glory ; But woe to them that wrapt in blood The tissue of my story ! Still as I clasp my burning brain, A death-scene rushes on my sight ; It rises o'er and o'er again, The bloody feud— the fatal night, When chafing Co'nnocht Moran's scorn, They call'd my hero basely born ; And bade him choose a meaner...
Page 40 - I raised the drooping wretch that pined In lonely anguish lying; Was balm unto the wounded mind. And solace to the dying ; Till one stern stroke of all my state, Of all my bliss, bereft me; And I was worse than desolate, For God himself had left me.
Page 217 - I feel, ere life has passed away, His very worm consuming. Night spreads her mantle o'er the sky, And all around are sleeping, While I, in tears of agony, My restless couch am steeping. I sigh for morn — the rising day Awakes the earth to gladness ; I turn, with sickening soul, away — It smiles upon my sadness.
Page 8 - I dreamt of my lady, I dreamt of her grief, I dreamt that her lord was a barbarous chief: On a rock of the ocean fair Ellen did seem ; Glenara ! Glenara ! now read me my dream...
Page 64 - With no hope in our wanderings to find One ray of the sunshine we leave : An adieu should in utterance die, Or if written, but faintly appear ; Only heard thro' the burst of a sigh, Only read thro' the blot of a tear ! DEAR FANNY.
Page 105 - A month old baby would have eaten more. What? Gooseberry pie ? Well, if you'll name that, you'll name anything. Ate too much indeed ! Do you think I was going to pay for a dinner, and eat nothing ? No, Mr. Caudle ; it's a good thing for you that I know a little more of the value of money than that. " But, of course, you were better engaged than in attending to me. Mr. Prettyman came on board at Gravesend. A planned thing, of course. You think I didn't see him give you a letter. It wasn'ta letter;...
Page 108 - Her heart was in her large sad eyes, Half sunshine and half shade ; And love, as love first springs to life, Of everything afraid. The red leaf far more heavily Fell down to autumn earth, Than her light feet, which seemed to move To music and to mirth. With the light feet of early youth, What hopes and joys depart ! Ah ! nothing like the heavy step Betrays the heavy heart.
Page 7 - ... the blue above, and the green below, and a thousand gleesome things around ? What though the walls are gilded, and the lofty ceiling fretted; the persian carpet soft as the woodland moss ; whilst the luxuries of art, the beauties of genius, lend their splendours with a gorgeous profusion ? Still it is only a magnificent prison. We see but little of the blue heaven ; scarcely more of the varied tints of earth. The air we breathe is close ; and the heart flutters to be free, as the imprisoned butterfly...
Page 7 - ... art, the beauties of genius, lend their splendours with a gorgeous profusion ? Still it is only a magnificent prison. We see but little of the blue heaven ; scarcely more of the varied tints of earth. The air we breathe is close ; and the heart flutters to be free, as the imprisoned butterfly on the first day of spring. Who would not rather go forth into the fresh, free air, than be a prisoner even in a gilded cage ? And nature, is she not more beautiful than art ? Doth not that beauty make the...

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