 Hast thou e'er seen the dame ? I pray thee, paint her Imo. They said her cheek of youth was beautiful Till withering sorrow blanched the bright rose there — And I have heard men swear her form was fair ; But grief did lay his icy finger on it, And chilled...  Lord Lovel's daughter. The Bohemian - Pàgina 245per Francis Barry Boyle] [St. Leger - 1829Visualització completa - Sobre aquest llibre
 | Charles Robert Maturin - 1816 - 98 pàgines
...blanched the bright rose there — And I have heard men swear her form was fair ; But grief did lay his icy finger on it, And chilled it to a cold and joyless statue. Methought she carolled blithely in her youth, , 90 , As the couched nestling trills his vesper lay,... | |
 | 1816 - 654 pàgines
...sorrow blanched the bright rose there-*And I have heard men swear her form was fair ; But grief did lay his icy finger on it, And chilled it to a cold and joyless statue. Rethought she carolled blithely in her youth, As the couched nestling trills his vesper Igy, But song... | |
 | 1816 - 660 pàgines
...blanched the bright rose there — And I have heard men swear her form was fair ; But grief did lay his icy finger on it, And chilled it to a cold and joyless statue. Methought she carolled blithely in her youth, As the couched nestling trills his vesper lay, But song... | |
 | British poets - 1824 - 676 pàgines
...cheek of youth was beautiful Till withering sorrow blanched the bright rose there ; But grief did lay his icy finger on it, And chilled it to a cold and joyless statue. Methought she carolled blithely in her youth, As the couched nestling trills his vesper lay, But song... | |
 | 1865 - 336 pàgines
...blanched the white rose there ; And I have heard men swear her form was fair; But grief did lay its icy finger on it^ And chilled it to a cold and joyless statue. Clo. I would I might behold that 'wretched lady In all her aad and waning loveliness. lino. Thou would'st... | |
 | Charles Anderton Read - 1879 - 390 pàgines
...blanched the bright rose there, And I have heard men swear her form was fair; But grief did lay its icy finger on it, And chilled it to a cold and joyless statue. Clo. I would I might behold that wretched lady In all her sad and waning loveliness. Imo. Thou would'st... | |
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