Vandeleur; or, Animal magnetism [by M. Pisani].

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Página 14 - He is an evening reveller who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Starts into voice a moment, then is still, There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil. Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.
Página 297 - Had wander'd from its dwelling, and her eyes They had not their own lustre, but the look Which is not of the earth; she was become The queen of a fantastic realm; her thoughts Were combinations of disjointed things; And forms impalpable and unperceived Of others
Página 286 - Above the green elms, that a cottage was near, And I said : "If there's peace to be found in the world, The heart that is humble might hope for it here.
Página 274 - Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — God ! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God!
Página 274 - Ye Ice-falls! ye that from the mountain's brow Adown enormous ravines slope amain Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty voice, And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? GOD!
Página 131 - Kindly she chides his boyish flights, while he Will for a moment fix'd and pensive be ; And as she trembling speaks, his lively eyes Explore her looks, he listens to her sighs; Charm'd by her voice, th...
Página 119 - Have pity on my sore distress, I scarce can speak for weariness. Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear, Said Christabel, How earnest thou here ? And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet, Did thus pursue her answer meet : — My sire is of a noble line, And my name is...
Página 205 - YET do I live! O how shall I sustain This vast unutterable weight of woe ? This worse than hunger, poverty, or pain, Or all the complicated ills below ? She, in whose life my hopes were treasur'd all.
Página 199 - Her hands were clasp'd— her eyes upturn'd, Dropping their tears like moonlight rain ; And, though her lip, fond raver ! burn'd With words of passion, bold, profane, Yet was there light around her brow, A holiness in those dark eyes, Which show'd — though wandering earthward now,Her spirit's home was in the skies.
Página 274 - GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD! GOD!

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