The Princess: A MedleyEdward Moxon, 1866 - 188 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
answer'd Arac arms ask'd babe betwixt Blow boys breathe broken brows call'd cataract cheek child clamour cried Cyril dark dash'd daughter dead dear death dipt dream dropt dying enemies have fall'n enter'd eyes face fair father fell fight Florian flowers flying follow'd gain'd gazed girl glance glowworm half hall hand head hear heard heart Heaven king kiss'd knew Lady Blanche Lady Psyche land laugh'd light Lilia lips lives look'd maiden maids Melissa morning mother moved Muses night noble o'er ourselves palace peace Prince Princess Princess Ida Psyche's push'd rapt rode roll'd rose sang seem'd shadow shame shook smile song soul spake speak spoke star stept stood strange sweet Sweet and low Sweet dream talk'd tears tender thee thou thought thro troth True woman trumpet turn'd vext voice wild Winter's tale woman women
Popular passages
Page 178 - Not like to like, but like in difference. Yet in the long years liker must they grow; The man be more of woman, she of man; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world ; She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words...
Page 83 - O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee. 'O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each, That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, And dark and true and tender is the North. 'O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill, And cheep and twitter twenty million loves.
Page 141 - Took the face-cloth from the face; Yet she neither moved nor wept Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee— Like summer tempest came her tears— ' Sweet my child, I live for thee.
Page 78 - The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dyin£, dying. O hark, O hear! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going! O sweet and far from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying: Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Page 28 - Hers are we,' One voice, we cried ; and I sat down and wrote, In such a hand as when a field of corn Bows all its ears before the roaring East ; ' Three ladies of the Northern empire pray Your Highness would enroll them with your own, As Lady Psyche's pupils.
Page 81 - Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Page 41 - everywhere Two heads in council, two beside the hearth, Two in the tangled business of the world, Two in the liberal offices of life, Two plummets dropt for one to sound the abyss Of science, and the secrets of the mind : Musician, painter, sculptor, critic, more : And everywhere the broad and bounteous Earth Should bear a double growth of those rare souls, Poets, whose thoughts enrich the blood of the world.
Page 174 - Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height: What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang) In height and cold, the splendour of the hills? But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine, To sit a star upon the sparkling spire; And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him...
Page 81 - Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Page 111 - Thy voice is heard thro* rolling drums. That beat to battle where he stands ; Thy face across his fancy comes. And gives the battle to his hands: A moment, while the trumpets blow, He sees his brood about thy knee ; The next, like fire he meets the foe, And strikes him dead for thine and thee. So Lilia sang: we thought her halfpossess'd, She struck such warbling fury thro...