The weird of the Wentworths, Volume 2 ;Volume 152


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Page 82 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Page 144 - Oh, God ! it is a fearful thing To see the human soul take wing In any shape, in any mood...
Page 99 - The battle- thunders will not break their rest! — Keep thy red gold and gems , thou stormy grave ! Give back the true and brave! Give back the lost and lovely! those for whom The place was kept at board and hearth so long , The prayer went up through midnight's breathless gloom, And the vain yearning woke midst festal song! Hold fast thy buried isles, thy towers o'erthrown — But all is not thine own!
Page 20 - It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, That cocking of a pistol, when you know A moment more will bring the sight to bear Upon your person, twelve yards off, or so; A gentlemanly distance, not too near, If you have got a former friend or foe ; But, after being fired at once or twice, The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice.
Page 213 - For other's weal avail'd on high, Mine will not all be lost in air, But waft thy name beyond the sky. 'T were vain to speak, to weep, to sigh ; Oh ! more than tears of blood can tell. When wrung from Guilt's expiring eye, Are in that word — Farewell ! — Farewell...
Page 109 - THE winds are high on Helle's wave, As on that night of stormy water When Love, who sent, forgot to save The young, the beautiful, the brave, The lonely hope of Sestos
Page 110 - Far in the cedar shade. The sea, the blue lone sea, hath one, He lies where pearls lie deep : He was the loved of all, yet none O'er his low bed may weep.
Page 33 - There, in that silent room below, The dead lay in his shroud of snow; And in the hush that followed the prayer, Was heard the old clock on the stair, — " Forever — never! Never — forever!
Page 78 - WHEN eyes are beaming What never tongue might tell, When tears are streaming From their crystal cell ; When hands are linked that dread to part. And heart is met by throbbing heart, Oh ! bitter, bitter is the smart Of them that bid farewell ! When hope is chidden That fain of bliss would tell. And love forbidden In the breast to dwell ; When fettered by a viewless chain, We turn and gaze, and turn again, Oh ! death were mercy to the pain Of them that bid farewell ! VESPERS.
Page 249 - OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME. OH ! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade, Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid : Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed, As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.

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