My vagabond days. Parthian darts. The story of Arnaut. Wilful breezes. The silent river. The regatta at Ryde. The protegee. The spirit's vigil. The fox-hunt. The sisters

H. Colburn, 1837
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Página 194 - Now would I give a thousand furlongs of sea for an acre of barren ground ; long heath, brown furze, any thing: The wills above be done! but I •would fain die a dry death.
Página 206 - In flower of youth and beauty's pride. Happy, happy, happy pair; None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserve the fair.
Página 142 - O'ER the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free, Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam, Survey our empire, and behold our home ! These are our realms, no limits to their sway — . Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Página 270 - twas, but it express'd her fortune, And she died singing it : that song to-night Will not go from my mind ; I have much to do, But to go hang my head all at one side, And sing it like poor Barbara.
Página 280 - ... idea that, one of these days, I shall really learn to talk. She is a sedate personage, who tries to reflect upon things ; but, as the same deep study has shaded her brow as long as I can recollect, I imagine that she does not often come to a conclusion. Yet the falsely-styled pride of Silvermere does not blanch her cheeks in the unwholesome atmosphere of learned tomes ; nor by spinning the globes, nor by hunting the stars. Her character is a little touched with romance, and her study is how to...
Página 186 - Tis a hard life, Your husband's — and laborious by night As well as day? Mary. Oh, often I have watch'd 'Till the grey dawn hath pcep'd into my lattice, And found me lonely still. Rayland. But now 'tis summer; And, as I think, his work by night is only For the wild winter-fowl, 'it must be long Since you watch'd last ? Mary. No longer than last night: But then he went to see a dying friend, And brought back that which smooths his nights hereafter. Rayland. (apart.) 'Tis even so!
Página 189 - As I return'd from Willow Mead, I found him In strange disorder at his cottage door. He told me he had slept; his wife just now Assured me that he was not home all night, And, when he came, he brought a purse of gold. My lord, I 'm sure you best know how he got it.
Página 181 - CALEB. Caleb. Welcome, friend Luke, and you, My precious charge. Right glad am I to see So sweet a face beneath my roof again. Mary. Thanks, Caleb, thanks. Luke. I need not tell thee, Caleb, How much thou hast of my good thoughts ; here is A proof thou canst not doubt — it is my all. [Delivering Mary to him. Caleb. It were no lack of hospitality Were I to hope so questionless a pledge Of thy good will might quickly be redeemed.
Página 306 - Vibert's countenance was grave, but not unfriendly. " Go on, then," said the former, in a deep, broken voice, and with every feature convulsed ; at the same time, he turned himself homeward ; and Vibert, seeing that it was advisable to part company, pursued his course towards Silvermere. Marcus made but a few strides, and paused. He clenched his teeth, and cast a wild glance at the fine form that was retreating from him — made one or two hesitating steps, and then bounded after.
Página 189 - The stream has nothing to oppose its course, And glides in deadly silence. Then I heard — The name of " Mary," and a plunge, and then A suffocating gasp — I heard no more; But dashing through the rushes which conceal'd The drowning man, beheld a quivering arm Just vanish in the greedy whirlpool's gorge! Mary. But — but — thou say'st — 1 know — I see thou say'st It was not he — my husband — God!

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