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admiration amidst Anger arms awful Bald Eagle battle beautiful blood blood atones bold brave breast breath bright brow Brutus burlesque burst Caius Verres cavern cheerful clouds contempt cried dark dead death deep delight despair Donatello dread earth eyes father fear feeling fire gazed glory grave Greece grief hand happy hath head hear heard heart heath bells heaven helmet of Navarre honour hope Horace Smith horse human indignation land lips look Lord loud mighty mind mountain N. P. Willis narrative never night noble o'er once peace phatic pity pride proud Risingham rock round Samian wine Saxon scene slave sleep smile soldier solemn soul sound Spain spirit st keyne steed stood sweet sword tears thee thing thou thought thousand thunder tion tone tree Twas Tyrol utterance voice waves wild wind Woman of Three
Page 257 - 2 The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake, And monarchs tremble in their capitals, Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake, They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. 4 The
Page 246 - He heard it, but he heeded not : his eyes Were with his heart, and that was far away: He reck'd not of the life he lost, nor prize ; — But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Dacian mother — he, their sire,
Page 199 - 3 There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gather'd then Her Beauty and her Chivalry; and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men; A thousand hearts beat happily; and when Music arose, with its voluptuous swell, Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again, And all went merry as a marriage-bell;—
Page 262 - Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful! She wish'd she had not heard it; yet she wish'd That heaven had made her such a man. She thank'd me And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, I should but teach him how to tell my story, And that would woo her.
Page 219 - Me miserable! which way shall I fly Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? Which way I fly is hell! myself am hell! And, in the lowest deep, a lower deep Still threatening to devour me, opens wide, To which the hell I suffer seems a heaven!
Page 312 - have tears, prepare to shed them now. The first time ever Caesar put it on; 'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent — "That day he overcame the Nervii! 20 Look! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through! — See what a rent the envious Casca made