The Children of the Abbey

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J. B. Lippincott & Company, 1864 - 629 pages
 

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Page 242 - lock up all the gates of lore, And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang, To turn all beauty Into thoughts of harm, And never more shall it be gracious.
Page 6 - ghosts of my fathers, bend. Lay by the red terror of your course. Receive the falling chief; whether he comes from a distant land, or rises from the rolling sea let his robe of mist be near, his spear that is formed of a cloud ; place a half-extinguished meteor by his side, in the form of the hero's sword. And,
Page 6 - some of my heroes are low," said the grey-haired king of Morven: "I hear the sound of death on the harp. Ossian, touch the trembling string. Bid the sorrow rise, that their spirits may fly with joy to Morven's woody hills.
Page 223 - variety of pain : How many drink the cup Of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread Of misery; sore pierced by wintry winds,
Page 111 - But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well my life shall pay; I'll seek the solitude he sought, And stretch
Page 580 - dancing pair that simply sought renown, By holding out to tire each other down : The bashful virgin's side-long looks
Page 303 - ^.countenance ; let me hear thy voice ; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely, and
Page 6 - half-extinguished meteor by his side, in the form of the hero's sword. And, oh ! let his countenance be lovely, that his friends may delight in his presence. Bend from your clouds,
Page 394 - lov'd, So often fills his arms, so often draws His lonely footsteps at the silent hour, To pay the mournful tribute of his tears T
Page 498 - been talking with that witch, the night. On what cold stone hast thou been stretched along. Gathering the grumbling winds about thy head. To mix with theirs the accent

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