The Marriage of Geraint: Geraint and Enid

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Macmillan and Company, 1895 - 125 pages

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Page xx - But neither breath of morn, when she ascends With charm of earliest birds; nor rising sun On this delightful land; nor herb, fruit, flower, Glistering with dew; nor fragrance after showers; Nor grateful evening mild; nor silent night, With this her solemn bird; nor walk by moon, Or glittering star-light, without thee is sweet.
Page 88 - Are you a man? Macb. Ay, and a bold one, that dare look on that Which might appal the devil. Lady M. O proper stuff! This is the very painting of your fear: This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said, Led you to Duncan. O, these flaws, and starts, (Impostors to true fear,) would well become A woman's story, at a winter's fire, Authoriz'd by her grandam. Shame itself ! Why do you make such faces ? When all's done, You look but on a stool.
Page xix - O sweet is the new violet, that comes beneath the skies, And sweeter is the young lamb's voice to me that cannot rise, And sweet is all the land about, and all the flowers that blow, And sweeter far is death than life to me that long to go.
Page 116 - God made the earth and the heavens, and every plant of the field before it was in the earth, and every herb of the field before it grew : for the Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till, the ground. But there went up a mist from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground.
Page 63 - This is a shameful thing for men to lie. Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again, As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word.
Page 11 - Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud ; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. ' Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown ; With that wild wheel we go not up or down ; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great ' Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands ; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands ; For man is man and master of his fate.
Page xii - Rather than that gray king, whose name, a ghost, Streams like a cloud, man-shaped, from mountain peak, And cleaves to cairn and cromlech still ; or him Of Geoffrey's book, or him of Malleor's, one Touch'd by the adulterous finger of a time That hover'd between war and wantonness, And crownings and dethronements...
Page 88 - Imperious Caesar, dead and turn'd to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away : O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw ! But soft ! but soft ! aside : here comes the king.
Page xiii - A glorious company, the flower of men, To serve as model for the mighty world, And be the fair beginning of a time.
Page 2 - Forgetful of his promise to the king, Forgetful of the falcon and the hunt, Forgetful of the tilt and tournament, Forgetful of his glory and his name, Forgetful of his princedom and its cares. And this forgetfulness was hateful to her.

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