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Page 103 - SHE walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
Page 120 - ... host of the Lord, Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path : Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath ! Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet ! Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet. Farewell to others, but never we part, Heir to my royalty, son of my heart ! Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway, Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day ! SAUL. THOU whose spell can raise the...
Page 64 - Well! thou art happy, and I feel That I should thus be happy too; For still my heart regards thy weal Warmly as it was wont to do. Thy husband's blest— and 'twill impart Some pangs to view his happier lot: But let them pass— Oh! how my heart Would hate him, if he loved thee not! When late I saw thy favourite child I thought my jealous heart would break; But when the unconscious infant smiled, I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.
Page 103 - And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent ! THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
Page 139 - And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.
Page 139 - And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
Page 21 - That man of loneliness and mystery, Scarce seen to smile, and seldom heard to sigh; Whose name appals the fiercest of his crew, And tints each swarthy cheek with sallower hue; Still sways their souls with that commanding art That dazzles, leads, yet chills the vulgar heart.
Page 138 - For the angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still?