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" ROSE AYLMER AH, WHAT avails the sceptred race! Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee. "
The Atlantic Monthly - Página 182
1883
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The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

Charlotte Fiske Bates - 1832 - 1022 páginas
...avails the sceptred race ? Ah, what the form divine ? What every virtue, every grace ? Rose Ayliner, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes...night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee. DEATH OF THE DAY. MY pictures blacken in their frames As night comes on, And youthful maids and wrinkled...
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Littell's Living Age, Volumen195

1892 - 890 páginas
...tones his own exquisite lines : — Ah, what avails the sceptred race ! Ah, what the form divine 1 What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all...eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and sighs I consecrate to thee. The effect of the resonant pathos of his melodious voice, together with...
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The Atlantic Monthly, Volumen33

1874 - 804 páginas
...like fatal blow, that we give the poem here. ROSE AYLMER. Ah, what av.iila the sceptred race ! Ah, what the form divine! What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. liose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes May weep, but never See, A night of memories and of sighs 1 conseerate...
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Lyra Elegantiarum

Frederick Locker-Lampson - 1867 - 410 páginas
...never been sigh'd on by any but mine ! " Thomas Moore. CCCXVI. AH ! what avails the sceptred race, Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace...night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee. CCCXVJI. AN ITALIAN SONG. DEAR is my little native vale, The ringdove builds and murmurs there ; Close...
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A household book of English poetry, selected with notes by R.C. Trench

Richard Chenevix Trench (abp. of Dublin) - 1868 - 458 páginas
...shake his trust in God ! So Thomas Campbell. CCLI ROSE AYLMER. Ah! what avails the sceptred race, Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace...all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes 5 May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee. Walter Savage Landor....
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Walter Savage Landor: A Biography, Volumen2

John Forster - 1869 - 726 páginas
...young. " Ah, what avails the sceptred race, Ah, what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace 1 Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these...night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee." The deep and tender pathos of that little poem could hardly be surpassed, and in delicacy and sweetness...
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Walter Savage Landor: A Biography, Volumen1

John Forster - 1869 - 558 páginas
...Ah, what avails the sceptred race, Ah, what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace ! Hose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful...night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee." The deep and tender pathos of that little poem could hardly be surpassed, and in delicacy and sweetness...
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Walter Savage Landor: A Biography, Volumen1

John Forster - 1869 - 564 páginas
...afierwards to India and died suddenly while yet very young. " Ah, what avails the sceptred race, Ah, what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace...Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful e>es May weep, but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee." The deep and...
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The Edinburgh Review, Volumen130

1869 - 622 páginas
...effect, recalling the perfection of Goethe and Voltaire : — ' Ah ! what avails the sceptereJ race, Ah ! what the form divine ! What every virtue, every grace ! Rose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, when these wakeful eyes May weep, but never see, A night of memories and sighs I consecrate to thee.'...
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Walter Savage Landor: A Biography, Volumen2

John Forster - 1869 - 716 páginas
...every virtue, every grace! Kose Aylmer, all were thine. Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes Мну weep but never see, A night of memories and of sighs I consecrate to thee." The deep and tender pathos of that little poem could hardly be surpassed, and in delicacy and sweetness...
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