Noel D'Auvergne: A Novel

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Seite 315 - Howe'er it be, it seems to me 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood.
Seite 286 - Not to a rage. Patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once: her smiles and tears Were like, a better way.
Seite 367 - And noble arch in proud decay, Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers ; But one thing want these banks of Rhine, — Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine...
Seite 457 - But O for the touch of a vanish'd hand, And the sound of a voice that is still...
Seite 109 - A maiden knight — to me is given Such hope, I know not fear; I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven That often meet me here. I muse on joy that will not cease, Pure spaces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace, Whose...
Seite 252 - All in the wild March-morning I heard the angels call ; It was when the moon was setting, and the dark was over all ; The trees began to whisper, and the wind began to roll, And in the wild March-morning I heard them call my soul.
Seite 327 - From the nations' airy navies grappling in the central blue ; - Far along the world-wide whisper of the south-wind rushing warm, With the standards of the peoples plunging thro' the thunder-storm ; Till the war-drum throbb'd no longer, and the battle-flags were furl'd In the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world. There the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe, And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law. So I triumph'd, ere my passion sweeping thro...
Seite 393 - Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die, Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred.
Seite 76 - And as the dove to far Palmyra flying From where her native founts of Antioch beam, Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream ; So many a soul, o'er life's drear desert faring, Love's pure congenial spring unfound, unquaffed, Suffers — recoils — then thirsty and despairing Of what it would, descends and sips the nearest draught ! * MARIA Go WEN BROOKS (MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE).

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