The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, 1851 - 182 pages |
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Page 3
... faces and with holiday . There moved the multitude , a thousand heads : The patient leaders of their Institute Taught them with facts . One rear'd a font of stone And drew , from butts of water on the slope , The fountain of the moment ...
... faces and with holiday . There moved the multitude , a thousand heads : The patient leaders of their Institute Taught them with facts . One rear'd a font of stone And drew , from butts of water on the slope , The fountain of the moment ...
Page 12
... face With colour ) turn'd to me with ' As you will ; Heroic if you will , or what you will , Or be yourself your hero if you will . ' ' Take Lilia , then , for heroine ' clamour'd he , And make her some great Princess , six feet high ...
... face With colour ) turn'd to me with ' As you will ; Heroic if you will , or what you will , Or be yourself your hero if you will . ' ' Take Lilia , then , for heroine ' clamour'd he , And make her some great Princess , six feet high ...
Page 14
... face , Of temper amorous , as the first of May , With lengths of yellow ringlet , like a girl , For on my cradle shone the Northern star . There lived an ancient legend in our house . Some sorcerer , whom a far - off grandsire burnt ...
... face , Of temper amorous , as the first of May , With lengths of yellow ringlet , like a girl , For on my cradle shone the Northern star . There lived an ancient legend in our house . Some sorcerer , whom a far - off grandsire burnt ...
Page 17
... face Grow long and troubled like a rising moon , Inflamed with wrath : he started on his feet , Tore the king's letter , snow'd it down , and rent The wonder of the loom thro ' warp and woof From skirt to skirt ; and at the last he ...
... face Grow long and troubled like a rising moon , Inflamed with wrath : he started on his feet , Tore the king's letter , snow'd it down , and rent The wonder of the loom thro ' warp and woof From skirt to skirt ; and at the last he ...
Page 46
... keep your hoods about the face ; They do so that affect abstraction here . Speak little ; mix not with the rest ; and hold Your promise : all , I trust , may yet be well . ' We turn'd to go , but Cyril took the child 46 THE PRINCESS ;
... keep your hoods about the face ; They do so that affect abstraction here . Speak little ; mix not with the rest ; and hold Your promise : all , I trust , may yet be well . ' We turn'd to go , but Cyril took the child 46 THE PRINCESS ;
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Common terms and phrases
ALFRED TENNYSON answer'd Arac arms ask'd babe betwixt Blow bound in morocco boys brows call'd cataract CHARLES LAMB child cloth cried Cyril dark daughter dead dear death dipt DOVER STREET dream dropt dying EDITION EDWARD MOXON elegantly bound enemies have fall'n enter'd eyes face fair father fight Florian flying follow'd foolscap 8vo gain'd girl glowworm hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven king kiss'd knew Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa morning mother moved night noble o'er ourselves POEMS POETICAL price 16s Prince Princess Princess Ida Psyche's rapt rode roll'd rose sang seem'd sewed shadow shame small 8vo song spake speak spoke star stept stood strange sweet Sweet and low talk'd thee thou thought thro trumpet turn'd vext voice wild WILLIAM WORDSWORTH Winter's tale woman women Woodcuts
Popular passages
Page 171 - Yet in the long years liker must they grow; The man be more of woman, she of man ; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world ; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words...
Page 78 - O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her what I tell to thee. ' O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each, That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, And dark and true and tender is the North.
Page 73 - O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 75 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Page 180 - For me, the genial day, the happy crowd, The sport half-science, fill me with a faith. This fine old world of ours is but a child Yet in the go-cart. Patience ! Give it time To learn its limbs : there is a hand that guides.
Page 156 - I strove against the stream and all in vain; Let the great river take me to the main. No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield; Ask me no more.
Page 168 - And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him; by the happy threshold, he, Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, Or red with spirted purple of the vats, Or foxlike in the vine ; nor cares to walk With Death and Morning on the silver horns, Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine, Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice, That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : But follow; let the torrent dance...
Page 76 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 134 - Then they praised him, soft and low, CalPd him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept.
Page 76 - Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more!