Ahasuerus, the Wanderer: A Dramatic Legend in Six Parts

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G. and W. B. Whittaker, 1823 - 112 páginas
 

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Página 90 - WHEN the lamp is shattered The light in the dust lies dead — When the cloud is scattered The rainbow's glory is shed. When the lute is broken, Sweet tones are remembered not; When the lips have spoken, Loved accents are soon forgot.
Página 90 - As music and splendour Survive not the lamp and the lute, The heart's echoes render No song when the spirit is mute: — No song but sad dirges, Like the wind through a ruined cell, Or the mournful surges That ring the dead seaman's knell.
Página 56 - Tier above tier, on fretted galleries piled, Until they glitter'd in the vault of heaven ! Whilst others in the fathomless abyss Of crags, that toppled as to overwhelm, Stood islanded ! On all sides I beheld The delicatest sculpture ; and within The vast and desolate courts, with grass o'ergrown, Sphynxes, and elephants, and obelisks, And columns fairer than Ionic, rose ! And who are they, that in these countless caves, Of unimaginable shapes, and arm'd With strange and mystic implements of death...
Página 91 - As the storms rock the ravens on high : Bright reason will mock thee, Like the sun from a wintry sky. From thy nest every rafter Will rot, and thine eagle home Leave thee naked to laughter When leaves fall and cold winds come.
Página 29 - Bending towards the left through grass that grew Upon its bank, impeded suddenly My going on. Water of purest hue On earth, would appear turbid and impure Compared with this, whose unconcealing dew...
Página 29 - I entered ; but no fear Of wandering from my way disturbed, when nigh A little stream appeared ; the grass that grew Thick on its banks impeded suddenly My going on. Water of purest dew On earth would appear turbid and impure Compared with this, whose unconcealing hue — Dark, dark, yet clear, moved under the obscure Of the close boughs, whose interwoven looms No ray of moon or sunshine would endure.
Página 29 - Like the sweet breathing of a child in sleep : Already had I lost myself so far Amid that tangled wilderness, that I Perceived not where I entered, but no fear Of wandering from my way disturbed, when nigh A little stream appeared ; the grass that grew Thick on its banks impeded suddenly My going on ; " Water, of purest dew On earth, would appear turbid and impure Compared with this, whose...
Página 15 - He thirsted for his likeness, and he found No bosom that could sympathise with his, Or dive into the fountains of his mind's Deep mysteries; none who could hold intercourse Or commune with his soul.

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