The doom of Derenzie, a poem

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Side 135 - A little lowly hermitage it was, Down in a dale, hard by a forest's side, Far from resort of people, that did pass In travel to and fro : a little wide There was...
Side 130 - Cap" by the vulgar, from the supposed resemblance of its bells to this part of fairy dress. To the same plant, many rustic superstitions are attached, particularly its salutation of supernatural beings, by bending its long stalks in token of recognition. Old and solitary thorns, in common with the digitalis, are regarded with reverence by the peasantry, and considered as sacred to the revels of these eccentric little sprites, whose vengeance follows their removal. Any antique implement casually discovered...
Side 135 - ... very black and he rushed about in a bewildered manner like one suddenly aroused from his sleep. There is no place more suitable for statuary than about a spring or fountain, especially in parks or improved fields. Here one seems to expect to see figures and bending forms. " Where a spring rises or a river flows," says Seneca, " there should we build altars, and offer sacrifices.
Side 8 - O'er which his dark unholy shadow moved, Felt, in that joyless hour, a creeping gloom Whose influence awed the giddiest: — he was held As one of those on whom the hand of fate, In some portentous moment, had imprest A mystic mark — one singled from his kind, In favour or in hatred, and invested With powers that haply none may shun or seek. They deem'd him a dark wizard...
Side 28 - Such was the strange one, who stalked on Beneath its black and broken wall, Like some grim guest of the times long gone, Who came to wait, and weep its fall; Or, as one of the old baronial train, Whom the yawning earth had upwards cast, As if to yield to the world again, One gloomy image of the past. THE DOOM OF DERENZIE. PART SECOND. Where pleasure flies the grasping hand, And hope builds palaces on shifting sand. BlDtAIl. PART SECOND. AND, tho...
Side 12 - He carried her, and from the sun of summer, The piercing winds of winter, the sad pangs Of chill neglect, and the unreckoned ills That haunt the drooping steps of houseless poverty, Through thrice five years he sheltered her. So she grew, Bright, beautiful, and innocent before him; Even as an angel stealing on his path, And guiding him to comfort — she did seem Form'd to revive within him each fond feeling — To root the fiend of sadness from his bosom — To soothe his wayward spirit — and...
Side 8 - Midst the young group frequenting rural wake Or village fair, that in their mood of mirth, By word or wandering gesture would have ventured To trifle with old Wrue! his air and tone Dropt as a spell on all, and withered up The wonted springs of gaiety; the smile Past in...
Side viii - GROSB, his friends have erected a handsome monument, which bears this inscription : — TO THE MEMORY OF THOMAS FURLONG, ESQ. in whom the purest principles of Patriotism and Honor were combined with Superior Poetical Genius, This Memorial of Friendship is erected by those who valued and admired His various Talents, Public Integrity, And Private Worth. He died 25th July, 1827, aged 33 years. MAY HE REST IN PEACE.
Side 14 - There ran a sudden chillness — his aged head Grew giddy — in their sockets his dim eyes Turn'd wildly — and upon his lips appear'd A strange foul tinge of blackness. On that evening A burning fever seiz'd him, and he lay In wild and lonely misery; — so went by With him ten long sad days, and on the last, When...
Side 14 - ... shall tell Or think what Wrue experienced as he learned The story of her ruin? Through his frame There ran a sudden dullness — his aged head Grew giddy — in their sockets his dim eyes Turn'd wildly, and upon his lips appeared A strange foul tinge of blackness. On that evening A burning fever seized him, and he lay In wild and lonely misery; so went by With him ten long sad days, and on the last, When reason came again, and he could bear The light that shone around, he turn'd and...

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