The Troubadour: Catalogue of Pictures ; and Historical Sketches

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Hurst, Robinson and Company, 1825 - English poetry - 326 pages
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L.E.L AND MARY HOWIT 1840

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Page 289 - FAIRY. My dwelling is in the serpentine Of the rainbow's colour'd line, — See how its rose and amber clings To the many hues of my radiant wings ; Mine is the step that bids the earth Give to the iris flower its birth, And mine the golden cup to hide, Where the last faint hue of the rainbow died. Search the depths of an Indian mine, — Where are the colours to match with mine ? CHORUS.
Page 4 - And upon you some shadowy likeness may glance Of the faery banks of the bright Durance ; Just where at first its current flows 'Mid willows and its own white rose, — Its clear and early tide, or ere A shade, save trees, its waters bear.
Page 250 - ... father, though no more, thine ear Censure or praise of mine can hear, It soothes me to embalm thy name With all my hope, my pride, my fame, Treasures of Fancy's fairy hall, — Thy name most precious far of all. My page is wet with bitter tears, — I cannot but think of those years When happiness and I would wait On summer evenings by the gate, And keep o'er the green fields our watch The first sound of thy step to catch, Then run for the first kiss, and word, — An unkind one I never heard....
Page 294 - ... that ever Love should thus struggle with a vain endeavour Against itself: it is a common tale, And ever will be while earth soils prevail Over earth's happiness ; it tells she strove With silent, secret, unrequited love. It matters not its history ; love has wings Like lightning, swift and fatal, and it springs Like a wild flower where it is least expected, Existing whether cherish'd or rejected ; Living with only but to be content, Hopeless, for love is its own element, — Requiring nothing...
Page 307 - And the dark eyes' flashing light Seem'd to feel their destiny. They enter'd in the temple, And stood before the shrine ; It stream'd with the victim's blood, With incense and with wine. The ground rock'd beneath their feet, The thunder shook the dome ; But the boy stood firm, and swore Eternal hate to Rome. There's a page in history O'er which tears of blood were wept, And that page is the record How that oath of hate was kept.
Page 227 - O'er the rich awnings which were round The galleries that hemm'd in the ground, The green and open space, where met The Minstrels of the Violet ; And two or three old stately trees Soften'd the sun, skreen'd from the breeze. And there came many a lovely dame, With cheek of rose, and eye of flame ; And many a radiant arm was raised, Whose rubies in the sunshine blazed ; And many a white veil swept the air Only than what they hid less fair ; And placed at his own beauty's feet Found many a youthful...
Page 295 - Deep in each heart's undream'd, unsought recess. The careless smile, like a gay banner borne, The laugh of merriment, the lip of scorn, — And, for a cloak, what is there that can be So difficult to pierce as gaiety...
Page 235 - I'd forget my once distress For young Love's insidiousness. False foes, and yet falser friends, Seeming but for their own ends ; Pleasures known but by their wings, Yet remember'd by their stings ; Gold's decrease, and health's decay, I will fly like these away, To some lovely solitude, Where the nightingale's young brood Lives amid the shrine of leaves, . Which the wild rose round them weaves, And my dwelling shall be made Underneath the beech-tree's shade. Twining ivy for the walls Over which the...
Page 306 - Pass'd through the sacred wood, Which, like a mystery, Around the temple stood. The warrior's brow was worn With the weight of casque and plume, And sun-burnt was his cheek, And his eye and brow were gloom. The child was young and fair, But the forehead large and high, And the dark eyes' flashing light Scem'd to feel their destiny.
Page 158 - twas blest, A green and holy place of rest. But ill my burthen'd heart could bear Its after loneliness of care ; The calmness round seem'd but to be A mockery of grief and me, — The azure flowers, the sunlit sky, The rill, with its still melody, The leaves, the birds, — with my despair, The light and freshness had no share : The one unbidden of them all To join in summer's festival. I wander'd first to many a shrine By zeal or ages made divine; And then I visited each place Where valour's deeds...

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