Altres edicions - Mostra-ho tot
able acquaintance admiration affected animated Ann's appeared arrived attachment attention Balladon beauty believe Bodell bright brother calm Captain Fitzelm character claims coldness considered continually countenance Countess dark death demanded desire Edith Edith Avondel endure engagement enjoy entered existence expected expression father fear feeling felt Fitzelm Park future genius give Grace hand happiness heart heaven honour hope hour idea imagination immediately impossible interest Jane knew Lady Athol Lady Fitzelm less letter light look manner Mary means ment mind Miss Avondel moment mother nature never observed once opinion pain pale passed passion perhaps person possessed possible precisely present Rashleigh received rendered replied result scarcely seemed seen sentiment silence Sir Adelmar Sir James soul suffer sufficient thing thought tion usual whilst whole wish woman young Zimri
Pàgina 12 - But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men, To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess, And roam along, the world's tired denizen, With none who bless us, none whom we can bless; Minions of splendour shrinking from distress! None that, with kindred consciousness endued, If we were not, would seem to smile the less Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued; This is to be alone; this, this is solitude.
Pàgina 102 - They parted - ne'er to meet again! But never either found another To free the hollow heart from paining They stood aloof, the scars remaining, Like cliffs, which had been rent asunder; A dreary sea now flows between; But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been.
Pàgina 143 - Alas ! they had been friends in youth ; But whispering tongues can poison truth ; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny ; and youth is vain ; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain.
Pàgina 22 - Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild; Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields, Thine olive ripe as when Minerva smiled, And still his...
Pàgina 40 - Infirm of purpose ! Give me the daggers : the sleeping and the dead Are but as pictures ; 'tis the eye of childhood That fears a painted deviL If he do bleed, I '11 gild the faces of the grooms withal, For it must seem their guilt.
Pàgina 197 - Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down ; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own ; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.