The Literature of the Kymry: Being a Critical Essay on the History of the Language and Literature of Wales

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William Reese, 1849 - 512 páginas
 

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Página 480 - E'en the slight hare-bell raised its head, Elastic from her airy tread : What though upon her speech there hung The accents of the mountain tongue, Those silver sounds, so soft, so dear, The listener held his breath to hear.
Página 506 - Per me si va nella città dolente; per me si va nell' eterno dolore; per me si va tra la perduta gente.
Página 488 - Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud; Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies, And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine, With repetition of my Romeo's name. Rom. It is my soul that calls upon my name: How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending ears!
Página 506 - Through me you pass into the city of woe: Through me you pass into eternal pain: Through me among the people lost for aye. Justice the founder of my fabric moved: To rear me was the task of Power divine, Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love. 19 Before me things create were none, save things Eternal, and eternal I endure. All hope abandon, ye who enter here.
Página 95 - Horse! horse!" the Douglas cried, "and chase!' But soon he reined his fury's pace: "A royal messenger he came, Though most unworthy of the name. A letter forged! Saint Jude to speed! Did ever knight so foul a deed! At first in heart it liked me ill, When the King praised his clerkly skill. Thanks to St. Bothan, son of mine, Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line: So swore I, and I swear it still, Let my boy-bishop fret his fill.
Página 95 - Though most unworthy of the name. — A letter forged ! Saint Jude to speed ! Did ever knight so foul a deed ! At first in heart it liked me ill, When the King praised his clerkly skill. Thanks to Saint Bothan, son of mine, Save Gawain, ne'er could pen a line : So swore I, and I swear it still, Let my boy-bishop fret his fill. — Saint Mary mend my fiery mood ! Old age ne'er cools the Douglas blood, I thought to slay him where he stood. 'Tis pity of him too," he cried : " Bold can he speak, and...
Página 95 - I will not open it." "Wherefore not?" "The knife is in the meat, and the drink is in the horn, and there is revelry in Arthur's hall, and none may enter therein but the son of a king of a privileged country, or a craftsman bringing his craft.
Página 427 - Before him were two brindled white-breasted greyhounds, having strong collars of rubies about their necks, reaching from the shoulder to the ear.
Página 508 - When, smitten by the morning ray, I see thee rise alert and gay, Then, cheerful flower ! my spirits play With kindred gladness ; And when, at dusk, by dews opprest Thou sink'st, the image of thy rest Hath often eased my pensive breast Of careful sadness.
Página 187 - I have suffered hunger for the Son of the Virgin. I have been fostered in the land of the Deity, I have been teacher to all intelligences, I am able to instruct the whole universe. I shall be until the day of doom on the face of the earth ; And it is not known whether my body is flesh or fish. Then I was for nine months In the womb of the hag Ceridwen ; I was originally little Gwion, And at length I am Taliesin.

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