The Princess: A MedleyScott, Foresman, 1899 - 169 pages |
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Page 24
... an hour in mine own bed She has This morning : there the tender orphan hands Felt at my heart , and seem'd to charm from thence The wrath I nursed against the world . 99 When Cyril pleads with her to give the child 24 INTRODUCTION.
... an hour in mine own bed She has This morning : there the tender orphan hands Felt at my heart , and seem'd to charm from thence The wrath I nursed against the world . 99 When Cyril pleads with her to give the child 24 INTRODUCTION.
Page 26
... hand , is a highly important motive of the plot , and lies in the feminine masquerade of the Prince and his friends . Tennyson himself said much that was of interest concerning The Princess to his son , who has pub- lished it in the ...
... hand , is a highly important motive of the plot , and lies in the feminine masquerade of the Prince and his friends . Tennyson himself said much that was of interest concerning The Princess to his son , who has pub- lished it in the ...
Page 30
... hands clasped behind him ; and , as some tree or cloud , or glimpse of distant upland pastures , struck him , he quoted poetry to himself , saying it out loud in a grand , sonorous voice , with just the emphasis that true feeling and ...
... hands clasped behind him ; and , as some tree or cloud , or glimpse of distant upland pastures , struck him , he quoted poetry to himself , saying it out loud in a grand , sonorous voice , with just the emphasis that true feeling and ...
Page 36
... hand in hand with Science ; other where Pure sport : a herd of boys with clamour bowl'd And stump'd the wicket ; babies roll'd about Like tumbled fruit in grass ; and men and maids Arranged a country dance , and flew thro ' light And ...
... hand in hand with Science ; other where Pure sport : a herd of boys with clamour bowl'd And stump'd the wicket ; babies roll'd about Like tumbled fruit in grass ; and men and maids Arranged a country dance , and flew thro ' light And ...
Page 38
... hand that play'd the patron with her curls . And one said smiling " Pretty were the sight If our old halls could change their sex , and flaunt With prudes for proctors , dowagers for deans , And sweet girl - graduates in their golden ...
... hand that play'd the patron with her curls . And one said smiling " Pretty were the sight If our old halls could change their sex , and flaunt With prudes for proctors , dowagers for deans , And sweet girl - graduates in their golden ...
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Common terms and phrases
Alfred Tennyson answer'd Arac arms Arthur Arthur Hallam babe betwixt Blow breathe brother brows call'd Carian child cried Cyril Danaid dark daughter dead death dream dropt English enter'd eyes face fair father fight Florian flying friends Gama girl golden Guinevere half hall Hallam hand head hear heard heart Heaven king King Arthur knew Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land light Lilia Lionel Tennyson lips lived Locksley Hall look'd Lord Lord Tennyson Love's Labours Lost maiden maids Melissa morning mother moved night noble o'er Oppian ourself palace poem poet Prince Princess Princess Ida Psyche's rapt Rasselas rode roll'd rose round sang seem'd shadow shame shook Somersby song spake speak spoke star stood strange sweet talk'd tears tender Tennyson thee thou thought thro Tiresias Tomyris turn'd vext voice wild wind woman women word
Popular passages
Page 84 - 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.
Page 68 - Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon : Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
Page 82 - Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying. Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. 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. O love, they die in yon rich sky. They faint on hill or field or river; Our echoes roll from soul to soul. And grow for ever and for ever.
Page 146 - 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 thee down To find him in the valley; let the wild Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone...
Page 83 - And thinking of the days that are no more. 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 149 - For woman is not undevelopt man, But diverse : could we make her as the man, Sweet Love were slain : his dearest bond is this, Not like to like, but like in difference. 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...
Page 82 - The splendour falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story: The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Page 150 - Happy he With such a mother ! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Page 166 - Or let my lamp at midnight hour Be seen in some high lonely tower, Where I may oft out-watch the Bear...
Page 85 - O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill, and cheep and twitter twenty million loves. O were I thou that she might take me in, and lay me on her bosom, and her heart would rock the snowy cradle till I died. Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love, delaying as the tender ash delays to clothe herself, when all the woods are green!