Howitt's Journal of Literature and Popular Progress, 3. kötet

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William Howitt
W. Lovett, 1848

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194. oldal - And God said, Behold I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed ; to you it shall be for meat.
41. oldal - Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces thro' the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She look'd down to Camelot.
312. oldal - WE sat within the farmhouse old, Whose windows, looking o'er the bay, Gave to the sea-breeze, damp and cold, An easy entrance, night and day. Not far away we saw the port, — The strange, old-fashioned, silent town, — The lighthouse, — the dismantled fort, — The wooden houses, quaint and brown.
312. oldal - The very tones in which we spake Had something strange, I could but mark ; The leaves of memory seemed to make A mournful rustling in the dark.
41. oldal - The Lady of Shalott. Under tower and balcony, By garden-wall and gallery, A gleaming shape she floated by, Dead-pale between the houses high, Silent into Camelot. Out upon the wharfs they came, Knight and burgher, lord and dame, And round the prow they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.
302. oldal - No mingling voices sound — an infant wail alone ; a sob suppressed — again that short deep gasp, and then the parting groan ! Oh ! change — oh, wondrous change ! burst are the prison bars ! This moment there, so low, so agonized ; — and now, beyond the stars ! Oh I change — stupendous change ! There lies the soulless clod : — the sun eternal breaks — the new immortal wakes — wakes with his God!
40. oldal - To look down to Camelot. She knows not what the curse may be, And so she weaveth steadily, And little other care hath she, The Lady of Shalott. And moving thro' a mirror clear That hangs before her all the year, Shadows of the world appear.
29. oldal - For woman is not undevelopt man, But diverse: could we make her as the man, Sweet love were slain: his dearest bond is this, Not like to like, but like in difference.
41. oldal - The sun came dazzling thro' the leaves, And flamed upon the brazen greaves Of bold Sir Lancelot. A red-cross knight for ever kneel'd To a lady in his shield, That sparkled on the yellow field, Beside remote Shalott.
29. oldal - The woman's cause is man's; they rise or sink Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free: For she that out of Lethe scales with man The shining steps of Nature, shares with man His nights, his days, moves with him to one goal. Stays all the fair young planet in her hands — If she be small, slight-natured, miserable, How shall men grow...

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