Works: With a Memoir by Her Sister, and an Essay on Her Genius, Volume 5Sea & Blanchard, 1842 |
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Page 8
... . DE COUCI . MONTALBA . GUIDO . ALBERTI . ANSELMO , a Monk . VITTORIA . CONSTANCE , Sister to Eribert . Nobles , Soldiers , Messengers , Vassals , Peasants , & c . & c . - SCENE Palermo . ( 8 ) VESPERS OF PALERMO . ACT THE FIRST . SCENE I.
... . DE COUCI . MONTALBA . GUIDO . ALBERTI . ANSELMO , a Monk . VITTORIA . CONSTANCE , Sister to Eribert . Nobles , Soldiers , Messengers , Vassals , Peasants , & c . & c . - SCENE Palermo . ( 8 ) VESPERS OF PALERMO . ACT THE FIRST . SCENE I.
Page 67
... Anselmo ? He whose hermitage is rear'd Away , my Constance ! Our slaughtering bands A little while Know'st thou not ' Mid some old temple's ruins ? -Round the spot His name hath spread so pure and deep a charm , ' Tis hallow'd as a ...
... Anselmo ? He whose hermitage is rear'd Away , my Constance ! Our slaughtering bands A little while Know'st thou not ' Mid some old temple's ruins ? -Round the spot His name hath spread so pure and deep a charm , ' Tis hallow'd as a ...
Page 76
... ANSELMO . ' Tis strange he comes not ! - Is not this the still - And sultry hour of noon ? - He should have been Here by the day - break . Was there not a voice ? - " No ! ' tis the shrill cicada , with glad life Peopling these marble ...
... ANSELMO . ' Tis strange he comes not ! - Is not this the still - And sultry hour of noon ? - He should have been Here by the day - break . Was there not a voice ? - " No ! ' tis the shrill cicada , with glad life Peopling these marble ...
Page 77
... Anselmo , peace doth wait Even as an echo , following the sweet close Of some divine and solemn harmony : Therefore I sought thee now . Oh ! speak to me Of holy things and names , in whose deep sound Is power to bid the tempests of the ...
... Anselmo , peace doth wait Even as an echo , following the sweet close Of some divine and solemn harmony : Therefore I sought thee now . Oh ! speak to me Of holy things and names , in whose deep sound Is power to bid the tempests of the ...
Page 78
... Anselmo . How say'st thou , we are free ? There may have ranged , within Palermo's walls , Some brief wild tumult , but too well I know They call the stranger lord . Who calls the dead Vittoria . Conqueror or lord ? -Hush ! breathe it ...
... Anselmo . How say'st thou , we are free ? There may have ranged , within Palermo's walls , Some brief wild tumult , but too well I know They call the stranger lord . Who calls the dead Vittoria . Conqueror or lord ? -Hush ! breathe it ...
Common terms and phrases
Anselmo ARABELLA STUART art thou banners bear beautiful beneath bow'd brave breast breath breeze bright brow cheek Conradin Constance Couci dark dead death deep doth dreams dwell e'en earth Eribert Ev'n fair father fear flowers gaze gentle glad glance gleam glorious glow gone Gorsedd grave green grief Guido hath heart heaven hour human voice hush'd Joanna Baillie leaves light lips lone look look'd lyre midst mighty heart Montalba mother mournful night noble o'er pale pass'd planxty pour'd Procida proud Provençal racter Raimond rest rose round SCENE seem'd shining Sicilians Sicily silent sleep slumber smile soft solemn song soul sound speak spirit stood stream strong sunny sweet sword tears thee thine things thou art Thou hast thought thro tomb tone Twas unto Vittoria voice warrior wave wild winds woman's wouldst young youth
Popular passages
Page 237 - THE stately Homes of England, How beautiful they stand! Amidst their tall ancestral trees, O'er all the pleasant land. The deer across their greensward bound, Through shade and sunny gleam, And the swan glides past them with the sound Of some rejoicing stream.
Page 293 - And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever: it may be a sound — A tone of music— summer's eve — or spring — A flower — the wind — the ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
Page 254 - O good old man ; how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed ! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat, but for promotion; And having that, do choke their service up Even with the having: it is not so with thee.
Page 268 - Yet speak to me ! I have outwatch'd the stars, And gazed o'er heaven in vain in search of thee. Speak to me ! I have wander'd o'er the earth, And never found thy likeness — Speak to me ! Look on the fiends around — they feel for me : I fear them not, and feel for thee alone — Speak to me ! though it be...
Page 291 - The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.
Page 156 - Through many a joyous hour, Where the silvery green of the olive shade Hung dim o'er fount and bower. Yes, thou and I, by stream, by shore, In song, in prayer, in sleep, Have been, as we may be no more ; Kind sister, let me weep...
Page 137 - I come, I come ! ye have called me long, I come o'er the mountains with light and song ; Ye may trace my step o'er the wakening earth, By the winds which tell of the violet's birth, By the primrose stars in the shadowy grass, By the green leaves opening as I pass.
Page 311 - A change we have found there — and many a change! Faces, and footsteps, and all things strange ! Gone are the heads of the silvery hair, And the young that were have a brow of care, And the place is hush'd where the children play'd — Nought looks the same, save the nest we made...
Page 141 - Yet further may relent : for mightier far Than strength of nerve and sinew, or the sway Of magic potent over sun and star, Is love, though oft to agony distrest, And though his favourite seat be feeble woman's breast. But if thou goest, I follow...
Page 291 - Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame; Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; — They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.