Adrian; Or, The Clouds of the Mind: A Romance, Volume 2T. & W. Boone, 1852 |
Autres éditions - Tout afficher
Adrian: Or, The Clouds of the Mind. A Romance George Payne Rainsford James,Maunsell Bradhurst Field Affichage du livre entier - 1852 |
Adrian: Or, The Clouds of the Mind. A Romance George Payne Rainsford James,Maunsell Bradhurst Field Affichage du livre entier - 1852 |
Adrian: Or, The Clouds of the Mind. A Romance George Payne Rainsford James,Maunsell Bradhurst Field Affichage du livre entier - 1852 |
Expressions et termes fréquents
Adrian Brewerton answered Adrian arms asked beautiful better blood boat calm carriage cere Charleston child clouds companion cried dark daughter Davie dead dear dear Ella death door dream Ella's England exclaimed eyes face fancied father feelings felt fisherman gardener gazed girl gone grave grief half-breed hand happiness head heard heart horses hour Israel Keelson Kitty knew length light light-house looked matter ment mind negress never night object old Keelson once painful passed pause physician pistol plebeian poor portmanteau racter replied Adrian replied Charles Selden Roger Ashmore round Ruth scene schooner seat seemed seen side silent smile soon sort Sparhawk spirit step stood strange suddenly tell terrible thing thought tion tone took town turbed turned voice Volney walked Walter Ash watch window woman words young
Fréquemment cités
Page 17 - So calm are we when passions are no more. For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things, so certain to be lost. Clouds of affection from our younger eyes Conceal that emptiness which age descries. The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, Lets in new light through chinks that Time has made: Stronger by weakness, wiser, men become As they draw near to their eternal home. Leaving the old, both worlds at once they view That stand upon the threshold of the new.
Page 149 - COULD but our ancestors retrieve their fate, And see their offspring thus degenerate ; How we contend for birth and names unknown, And build on their past actions, not our own ; They'd cancel records, and their tombs deface, And openly disown the vile degenerate race : For fame of families is all a cheat, It's personal virtue only makes us great.
Page 83 - She gazed upon a world she scarcely knew As seeking not to know it ; silent, lone, As grows a flower, thus quietly she grew, And kept her heart serene within its zone.
Page 230 - But o'er the twilight groves and dusky caves, Long-sounding aisles and intermingled graves, Black Melancholy sits, and round her throws A death-like silence, and a dread repose : Her gloomy presence saddens all the scene, Shades every flower, and darkens every green ; Deepens the murmur of the falling floods, And breathes a browner horror on the woods.
Page 224 - As thistles wear the softest down, To hide their prickles till they're grown ; And then declare themselves and tear Whatever ventures to come near : So a smooth knave does greater feats Than one, that idly rails and threats, And all the mischief, that he meant, Does like a rattle-snake prevent.
Page 106 - If they believe not Moses and the prophets, neither would they believe if one rose from the dead.
Page 249 - Patience! preach it to the winds, To roaring seas, or raging fires! the knaves That teach it, laugh at ye when ye believe them.
Page 249 - I should like to have a few minutes' private conversation with you, Mr.
Page 165 - Tis well — my soul shakes off its load of care ; 'Tis only the obscure is terrible. Imagination frames events unknown, In wild fantastic shapes of hideous ruin ; And what it fears creates ! — I know the worst ; And awful is that worst as fear could feign : But distant are the ills I have to dread ! What is remote may be uncertain too ! Ha ! Princes ! hope breaks in ! — This may not be.
Page 122 - WHAT equall torment to the griefe of mind And pyning anguish hid in gentle hart, That inly feeds itselfe with thoughts unkind, And nourisheth her owne consuming smart ! What medicine can any leaches art Yeeld such a sore, that doth her grievance hide, And will to none her maladie impart ! Such was the wound that Scudamour did gride; For which Dan Phebus selfe cannot a salve provide.