The Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
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Page 54
... PADRE CURA OF GUADARRAMA . PEDRO CRESPO PANCHO . FRANCISCO . CHISPA BALTASAR PRECIOSA ANGELICA MARTINA DOLORES Count of the Gipsies . A young Gipsy . Alcalde . Alguacil . Lara's Servant . Victorian's Servant . Innkeeper . A Gipsy Girl ...
... PADRE CURA OF GUADARRAMA . PEDRO CRESPO PANCHO . FRANCISCO . CHISPA BALTASAR PRECIOSA ANGELICA MARTINA DOLORES Count of the Gipsies . A young Gipsy . Alcalde . Alguacil . Lara's Servant . Victorian's Servant . Innkeeper . A Gipsy Girl ...
Page 63
... Padre Francisco ! Padre Francisco ! What do you want of Padre Francisco ? Here is a pretty young maiden Who wants to confess her sins . Open the door and let her come in , I will shrive her from every sin . [ Enter VICTORIAN . ] Vict ...
... Padre Francisco ! Padre Francisco ! What do you want of Padre Francisco ? Here is a pretty young maiden Who wants to confess her sins . Open the door and let her come in , I will shrive her from every sin . [ Enter VICTORIAN . ] Vict ...
Page 89
... PADRE CURA at the door of his cottage . ] Padre Cura , Good day ! and , pray you , hear this edict read . Padre . Good day , and God be with you . Pray , what is it ? Cres . An act of banishment against the Gipsies ! Pan . Silence ...
... PADRE CURA at the door of his cottage . ] Padre Cura , Good day ! and , pray you , hear this edict read . Padre . Good day , and God be with you . Pray , what is it ? Cres . An act of banishment against the Gipsies ! Pan . Silence ...
Page 90
... Padre Cura of the village ; And , judging from your dress and reverend mien , You must be he . Padre . I am . Pray , what's your pleasure ? Hyp . We are poor students , travelling in vacation . You know this mark ? [ Touching the wooden ...
... Padre Cura of the village ; And , judging from your dress and reverend mien , You must be he . Padre . I am . Pray , what's your pleasure ? Hyp . We are poor students , travelling in vacation . You know this mark ? [ Touching the wooden ...
Page 91
... Padre . He is out of humour with some vagrant Gipsies , Who have their camp here in the neighbourhood . There is nothing so undignified as anger . Hyp . The Padre Cura will excuse our boldness , If , from his well - known hospitality ...
... Padre . He is out of humour with some vagrant Gipsies , Who have their camp here in the neighbourhood . There is nothing so undignified as anger . Hyp . The Padre Cura will excuse our boldness , If , from his well - known hospitality ...
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Common terms and phrases
Acadian Albrecht Dürer angel Balt beautiful behold BELFRY OF BRUGES bell beneath birds Bons amis breast breath bright brooklet Carlos clouds cried dark dead death door dost dreams earth Edenhall Elsie evermore eyes face fair fear feet fire flowers forest Friar gazed Gipsy gleams golden grave hand hear heard heart heaven Hiawatha holy Kenabeek land Lara laughed leaves light lips look loud Lucifer maiden meadow Mondamin monk moon morning night Nokomis o'er Osseo Padre passed Pau-Puk-Keewis Pray prayer Preciosa Prince Henry rain ring river rose round sails Saint sang shadows shining Sigrid the Haughty silent singing sleep smile song Song of Hiawatha sorrow soul sound spake stands stars stood sunshine sweet Tharaw thee thine thou art thought town unto Vict village voice walls wampum wander whispered wigwam wild wind words youth
Popular passages
Page 1 - Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! — For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.
Page 140 - We see but dimly through the mists and vapours ; Amid these earthly damps, What seem to us but sad funereal tapers May be heaven's distant lamps. There is no Death ! what seems so is transition ; This life of mortal breath Is but a suburb of the life elysian, Whose portal we call Death.
Page 355 - The belfry tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns!
Page 355 - It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the' cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington.
Page 39 - The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, ' As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me, That my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing, That is not akin to pain, 10 And resembles sorrow only As the mist resembles the rain.
Page 135 - Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! Sail on, O Union, strong and great ! Humanity with all its fears, With all the hopes of future years, Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! We know what Master laid thy keel, What Workmen wrought thy ribs of steel, Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, What anvils rang, what hammers beat, In what a forge and what a heat Were shaped the anchors of thy hope...
Page 4 - In the cottage of the rudest peasant, In ancestral homes, whose crumbling towers, Speaking of the Past unto the Present, Tell us of the ancient Games of Flowers ; In all places, then, and in all seasons, Flowers expand their light and soul-like wings, Teaching us, by most persuasive reasons, How akin they are to human things. And with childlike, credulous affection We behold their tender buds expand ; Emblems of our own great resurrection, Emblems of the bright and better land.
Page 20 - Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts!
Page 355 - It was one by the village clock when he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock swim in the moonlight as he passed, and the meeting-house windows...
Page 1 - Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead! Act, — act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead!