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Página 20 - Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face, Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night. Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny What I have spoke: but farewell compliment! Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word: yet, if thou swear'st, Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries, They say, Jove laughs.
Página 4 - And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down By zig-zag paths, and juts of pointed rock, 50 Came on the shining levels of the lake.
Página 10 - And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? All is not lost — the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate. And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome. That glory never shall his wrath or might Extort from .me.
Página 4 - Seeking a higher object. Love was given, Encouraged, sanctioned, chiefly for that end: For this the passion to excess was driven That self might be annulled: her bondage prove The fetters of a dream, opposed to love.
Página 10 - And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve! She leaned against the armed man, The statue of the armed knight; She stood and listened to my lay, Amid the lingering light. Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope! my joy! my Genevieve! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve.
Página 12 - Now strike the golden lyre again; A louder yet, and yet a louder strain. Break his bands of sleep asunder, And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder. Hark, hark, the horrid sound Has raised up his head; As awaked from the dead, And amazed, he stares around. Revenge, revenge!
Página 4 - Sweet to remember, through your love and care: Henceforth we will not part. There is a cave, All overgrown with trailing odorous plants, Which curtain out the day with leaves and flowers, And paved with veined emerald, and a fountain Leaps in the midst with an awakening sound. From its curved roof the mountain's frozen tears Like snow, or silver, or long diamond spires, Hang downward, raining forth a doubtful light...
Página 24 - And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted, And right perfection wrongfully disgraced, And strength by limping sway disabled, And art made tongue-tied by authority, And folly doctor-like controlling skill, And simple truth miscall'd simplicity, And captive good attending captain ill.

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