The Works of Mrs. Hemans: With a Memoir of Her Life, Volume 1
The memoir, by Harriet Mary (Browne) Owen, is attributed by most authorities to Mrs. Hughes, which was perhaps her name by a former marriage.
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affecting amongst appeared bear beauty believe blessed boys breath bright brother called cause character completely continued dark dear death deep delight described earth excitement expression eyes fair fame father fear feeling flowers give going green hand happy heard heart Hemans Hemans's hope idea imagination impression interest Italy kind land late less letter light lines living look memory mind mother mountain nature never night noble o'er once passed perhaps picture play pleasure poem poetry present received rest round scarcely scene seems seen sister song soon sorrow soul sound speak spirit strong suffering sure sweet tears tell thee things thou thought tone voice volume whole wild wish writings written wrote young
Page 307 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak: The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 101 - The chamber where the good man meets his fate Is privileged beyond the common walk Of virtuous life, quite in the verge of Heaven.
Page 12 - SHE was a phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful dawn: A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Page 224 - twere, anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Page 314 - E'en while with us thy footsteps trod, His seal was on thy brow. Dust to its narrow house beneath ! Soul to its place on high ! They that have seen thy look in death, No more may fear to die.
Page 311 - Towards spire and tower, midst shadowy elms ascending, Whence the sweet chimes proclaim the hallowed day ! The halls from old heroic ages grey Pour their fair children forth ; and hamlets low, With whose thick orchard-blooms the soft winds play, Send out their inmates in a happy flow, Like a freed vernal stream.
Page 15 - Once in dreams I saw a human being of heavenly intellectual faculties, and his aspirations were heavenly ; but he was chained (methought) eternally to the earth. The immortal old man had five great wounds in his happiness — five worms that gnawed for ever at his heart : he was unhappy in spring-time, because that is a season of hope, and rich with phantoms of far happier days than any which this aceldama of earth can realize. He was unhappy at the sound of music, which dilates...
Page 84 - The earth is every day overspread with the veil of night for the same reason as the cages of birds are darkened — viz. that we may the more readily apprehend the higher harmonies of thought in the hush and quiet of darkness. Thoughts which day turns into smoke and mist stand about us in the night as lights and flames : even as the column which fluctuates above the crater of Vesuvius in the daytime appears a pillar of cloud but by night a pillar of fire.
Page 300 - And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound — A tone of music — summer's eve — or spring — A flower — the wind — the ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.