The romance of the forest, by the authoress of 'A Sicilian romance'.1820 |
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Страница 94
... Clara the resemblance of her mother . The same gentleness of manner and the same sweetness of disposition soon displayed themselves ; and as she grew up , her actions fre- quently reminded him so strongly of his lost wife as to fix him ...
... Clara the resemblance of her mother . The same gentleness of manner and the same sweetness of disposition soon displayed themselves ; and as she grew up , her actions fre- quently reminded him so strongly of his lost wife as to fix him ...
Страница 95
... Clara ; they had been the scenes of her tenderness , and of his happiness . His chateau stood on the borders of a small lake that was almost environed by mountains of stupen- dous height , which , shooting into a variety of gro- tesque ...
... Clara ; they had been the scenes of her tenderness , and of his happiness . His chateau stood on the borders of a small lake that was almost environed by mountains of stupen- dous height , which , shooting into a variety of gro- tesque ...
Страница 96
... Clara's care to di- rect the young shoots of the plants , to nurse the budding flowers , and to shelter them with the luxu riant branches of the shrubs from the cold blasts that descended from the mountains . In summer abe usually rose ...
... Clara's care to di- rect the young shoots of the plants , to nurse the budding flowers , and to shelter them with the luxu riant branches of the shrubs from the cold blasts that descended from the mountains . In summer abe usually rose ...
Страница 97
... Clara was susceptible . From being delighted with the observance of nature , she grew pleased with seeing her finely imitated , and soon displayed a taste for poetry and painting . When she was about sixteen she often selected from her ...
... Clara was susceptible . From being delighted with the observance of nature , she grew pleased with seeing her finely imitated , and soon displayed a taste for poetry and painting . When she was about sixteen she often selected from her ...
Страница 98
... Clara a lute . She received it with more gratitude than she could express ; and having learned one air , she hastened to her favourite aca- cias , and played it again and again till she forgot every thing besides . Her little domestic ...
... Clara a lute . She received it with more gratitude than she could express ; and having learned one air , she hastened to her favourite aca- cias , and played it again and again till she forgot every thing besides . Her little domestic ...
Чести термини и фразе
abbey abbey of St Adeline Adeline's affection Amand anguish anxiety appeared attended beautiful believe carriage cerning chamber chateau circumstances Clara conduct conversation countenance D'Aunoy danger dear death delight despair distant distress dore dreadful drew Du Bosse emotions endeavoured entreated escape expressed eyes father fear grief hand happiness heard heart hope hostess hour immediately inquired knew lake Languedoc leave Leloncourt length looked Lord Louis Luc's lute Ma'mselle Madame La Luc Madame La Motte Marquis de Montalt Marquis's melancholy mind Montpellier morning neral night o'er occasioned pain Paris passed passion perceived Peter physician pity pleasure present prison quired quis quit the forest racter received recollection recovered replied returned Savoy scarcely scene scenery seemed shade sigh silence smile soon speak stranger sublime suffer sunk surgeon sweet tears tence tender terror Theo Theodore thither thought tion trembling Verneuil village voice wish wound XLIV
Популарни одломци
Страница 43 - I had a thing to say, — but let it go. The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, Attended with the pleasures of the world, Is all too wanton and too full of gawds To give me audience. If the midnight bell Did, with his iron tongue and brazen mouth, Sound on into the drowsy race of night...
Страница 2 - E'en have you seen, bathed in the morning dew, The budding rose, its infant bloom display ; When first its virgin tints unfold to view, It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day. "So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came, Youth's damask glow, just dawning on her cheek, I gazed, I sigh'd, I caught the tender flame, Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion weak...
Страница 125 - With trophies, rhymes, and scutcheons of renown, In the deep dungeon of some Gothic dome, Where night and desolation ever frown. Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down ; Where a green grassy turf is all I crave, With here and there a violet bestrown, Fast by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave. And many an evening sun shine sweetly on my grave.
Страница 234 - JOY'S ecstatic trial : He, with viny crown advancing, First to the lively pipe his hand address'd ; But soon he saw the brisk, awakening viol, Whose sweet entrancing voice he loved the best, They would have thought, who heard the strain. They saw, in Tempe's vale, her native maids, Amidst the festal sounding shades, To some unwearied minstrel dancing...
Страница 152 - Is there a heart that music cannot melt ? Alas ! how is that rugged heart forlorn ; Is there, who ne'er those mystic transports felt Of solitude and melancholy born ? He needs not woo the Muse ; he is her scorn.
Страница 95 - ... shooting into a variety of grotesque forms, composed a scenery singularly solemn and sublime.* Dark woods, intermingled with bold projections of rock, sometimes barren, and sometimes covered with the purple bloom of wild flowers, impended over the lake, and were seen in the clear mirror of its waters. The wild and alpine heights which rose above were either crowned with perpetual snows, or exhibited tremendous crags and masses of solid rock, whose appearance was continually changing as the rays...
Страница 66 - Brood of fate, Who lap the blood of Sorrow, wait ; Who, Fear, this ghastly train can see, And look not madly wild, like thee?
Страница 1 - He threw his blood-stained sword in thunder down, And with a withering look The war-denouncing trumpet took, And blew a blast so loud and dread, Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe. And ever and anon he beat...
Страница 205 - Mighty victor, mighty lord! Low on his funeral couch he lies! No pitying heart, no eye, afford A tear to grace his obsequies.