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Antony arms beauty believe blue breathing bright brow Cesar child Cleop comes dark dead dear died Don Ped dream Duke Ellena fair father fear feel fire flowers Gabr girl give gone green hair hand Hark hath head hear heard heart heaven hope hour I'll Ione Ippol Isab Italy Jeron Juan kind king laugh leave light Lisana live look lord mind mortal Mother never night Olym once pale pass perhaps play poor Prince queen rose round SCENE seas seems seen Sforza skies sleep smile soft soul sound speak spirit stand stars story stream summer sweet Sylv Sylvestra talk tell Thanks thee thing thou thought true turn twas voice wander wast Werner winds wish young youth
Página 81 - It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
Página 101 - I have heard That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
Página 187 - The picture of the mind revives again ; While here I stand, not only with the sense Of present pleasure, but with pleasing thoughts That in this moment there is life and food For future years. And so I dare to hope...
Página 115 - ... rise and fall of empires; in a little while the very name of France, my country, will perish from off the face of the earth, and men will dispute about the situation of Paris, as they dispute about the site of ancient Nineveh, and Babylon, and Troy. Yet I shall still be young. I shall take my most distant posterity by the hand; I shall accompany them in their career; and, when they are worn out and exhausted, shall shut up the tomb over them, and set forward.
Página 25 - No, I am not. I am as foul as thou art, and can number As many such hells here. I was once fair, Once I was lovely ; not a blowing rose More chastely sweet, till thou, thou, thou foul canker, (Stir not) didst poison me. I was a world of virtue, Till your...
Página 161 - And children jeer mo, and the boughs that wave And whisper loosely in the summer air, Shake their green leaves in mockery, as to say
Página 33 - The days when he would fly. How sweet they were ! Then I rebuked his speed, and now — and now I drench his wing with tears. How heavily The minutes pass. Can he avoid me ? Oh ! I almost wish — and yet that must not be. Hark, hark ! I hear a step come sounding through The hall.