The Book of Beauty: Comprising a Collection of Tales, Poems, &c

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E. L. Carey & A. Hart, 1833 - English literature - 241 pages

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Page 121 - No — man is dear to man ; the poorest poor Long for some moments in a weary life •' When they can know and feel that they have been, Themselves, the fathers and the dealers out Of some small blessings ; have been kind to such As needed kindness, for this single cause, That we have all of us one human heart.
Page 215 - That stifled feeling dare not shed, And changed her cheek from pale to red, And red to pale, as through her ears Those winged words like arrows sped, What could such be but maiden fears ? So bright the tear in Beauty's eye, Love half regrets to kiss it dry...
Page 69 - Thy proffer I do scorn ; I will not yield to any Scot That ever yet was born." With that there came an arrow keen Out of an English bow, Which struck Earl Douglas to the heart, A deep and deadly blow ; Who never...
Page 68 - The hunting of that day. The stout Earl of Northumberland A vow to God did make, His pleasure in the Scottish woods Three summer days to take; The chiefest harts in Chevy-Chase To kill and bear away.
Page 9 - Atlantic, the boundary of two separate worlds, apart like those of memory and of hope! or in the bright Pacific, whose tides are turned to gold by a southern sun, and in whose bosom sleep a thousand isles, each covered with the verdure, the flowers, and the fruit of Eden! But, amid all thy hereditary kingdoms, to which hast thou given beauty, as a birthright, lavishly as thou hast to thy favourite Mediterranean? The silence of a summer night is now sleeping on its bosom, where the bright stars are...
Page 16 - ... sudden light — till all his thoughts fixed on one mysterious circumstance — that he was the only person who had seen her the preceding evening. The Count d'Arezzi himself was not aware that she had been among his guests. While musing on the singularity of this, they arrived at the landing-place, and found the Senora's page in waiting. Dumb from his birth, the boy Julio had been brought up in the Manfredi family, where his weak frame and want of language had exempted him from all but the lightest...
Page 37 - Count was hastening; and when those prophecies were not fulfilled, their utterers were disappointed ; they viewed it as a sin that he had proved their omens untrue. In sad truth, half our forebodings of our neighbours are but our own wishes, which we are ashamed to utter in any other form. Gradually, the crowds at the Montefiore palace grew less noble ; those whose consequence was diminished by its splendour, were the first to turn away ; their example was followed by those who had nothing to gain...
Page 50 - My Leoni, why should you fear him?" murmured Lolah. "Fear him, nonsense! But it would be very disagreeable to have the old and foolish story which banished us from Palermo, set abroad in Lyons:" and, lost in gloomy meditation, he sank on a carved stone seat by the lake. For a moment the Countess stood irresolute by his side — suddenly dropping on one knee, she leant her beautiful head on his arm, and watching his countenance with those eloquent eyes which had never looked upon him but in love,...
Page 25 - I belong know of such a feeling ! They blend a moment's vanity, a moment's gratification, into a temporary excitement, and they call it love. Such are the many, and the many make the wretchedness of earth. And yet your own heart, Leoni, and that of my gentle cousin, may witness for my words, there are such things as truth, and tenderness, and devotion in the world ; and such redeem the darkness and degradation of its lot. Nay, more — if ever the mystery of our destiny be unravelled, and happiness...
Page 10 - Every one, they say, has a genius for something — that of Count Arezzi was for festivals. A king, or more, the Athenian Pericles, might have welcomed his most favoured guests in such a chamber. The walls were painted in fresco, as artists paint whose present is a dream of beauty, and whose future is an immortality. Each fresco was a scene in Arcadia; and the nymphs, who were there gathering their harvest of roses, were only less lovely than the Sicilian maidens that flitted past. Among these was...

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