Joan of Arc, Ballads, Lyrics, and Minor PoemsG. Routledge and sons, 1870 - 469 էջ |
From inside the book
Արդյունքներ 74–ի 1-ից 3-ը:
Էջ 240
... poor , And then , what's better still , you have the heart To give from your abundance . FATHER . God forbid I should want charity ! CURATE . Oh ! ' tis a comfort To think at last of riches well employed ! I have been by a death - bed ...
... poor , And then , what's better still , you have the heart To give from your abundance . FATHER . God forbid I should want charity ! CURATE . Oh ! ' tis a comfort To think at last of riches well employed ! I have been by a death - bed ...
Էջ 333
... poor folks were like to mice , that were good for nothing but to devour corne . But God Almighty , the just avenger of the poor folks quarrel , did not long suffer this hainous tyranny - this most detestable fact - unpunished . For he ...
... poor folks were like to mice , that were good for nothing but to devour corne . But God Almighty , the just avenger of the poor folks quarrel , did not long suffer this hainous tyranny - this most detestable fact - unpunished . For he ...
Էջ 419
... poor infant , give him me . BENEDICT . Stand off ! the devil lent him , and again I will return him honestly , and rid Earth of one bane . KARL . Thou dost not mean to kill ! Poor infant , spare him ! I have young and old , The poor , a ...
... poor infant , give him me . BENEDICT . Stand off ! the devil lent him , and again I will return him honestly , and rid Earth of one bane . KARL . Thou dost not mean to kill ! Poor infant , spare him ! I have young and old , The poor , a ...
Բովանդակություն
JOAN OF ARC | 1 |
EARLY POEMS | 141 |
TO A FRIEND IN THE COUNTRY | 238 |
13 այլ բաժինները չեն ցուցադրվում
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Common terms and phrases
amid arbalist arms bade BATTLE OF BLENHEIM Beelzebub behold beneath bishop bless blest blood breast Charlemagne cheek cheerful chief child Chinon church cold Conrade cried dark dead death deep delight dreadful Dunois EDMUND EVANS English exclaim'd fair falchion father Fcap fear feel fell fled France gaze grave grew hand happiness HARRISON WEIR hath hear heard heart heaven HENRY THE HERMIT holy host hour Joan of Arc king live look'd Lord loud Maid Maiden midnight morning never night o'er Odin Orleans pale pass'd peace plain poor prayer replied rest ROBERT SOUTHEY round Sir JOHN GILBERT smile song soon sorrow soul sound Southey spake stood STRANGER stream strong sword tell tempest thee thine thought throng toil towers traveller troops Twas voice walls warrior waves whilst wife wild wind woman wretched young youth