 | Washington Irving - 1822 - 424 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? Who,...friend over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, William Smith, Sir John Murray (IV), Rowland Edmund Prothero (Baron Ernle) - 1821 - 596 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? Who,...friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the... | |
 | William Gifford, Sir John Taylor Coleridge, John Gibson Lockhart, Whitwell Elwin, William Macpherson, Sir William Smith, Rowland Edmund Prothero Baron Ernle, George Walter Prothero - 1821 - 612 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? Who,...friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the... | |
 | Washington Irving - 1822 - 402 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? Who,...friend over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the... | |
 | Washington Irving - 1824 - 804 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who,...friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the... | |
 | 1828 - 394 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? Who,...agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns 1 Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved, when he feels his heart,... | |
 | Washington Irving - 1829 - 522 pàgines
...that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? Whoi, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the torn!) is closing upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed... | |
 | Samuel Kirkham - 1834 - 360 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang'? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents', though', to remember', be but to lament'?...over whom he mourns'? Who', even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved'; when he feels his heart', as it were', crushed in the... | |
 | Washington Irving - 1834 - 320 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament? Who,...friend over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the... | |
 | Washington Irving - 1836 - 250 pàgines
...though every recollection is a pang ? Where is the child -that would willingly forget the most tender of parents, though to remember be but to lament ? Who,...friend over whom he mourns ? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved ; when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the... | |
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Who, even in the hour of agony, would forget the friend over whom he mourns? Who, even when the tomb is closing upon the remains of her he most loved, when he feels his heart, as it were, crushed in the closing of its portal, would accept of consolation... 
