FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124  
125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   >>   >|  
. "Your fetters I allow, As a strong man may bow His sportive neck to meet a child's command, And curb the conscious power That in one awful hour Could whelm your halls and temples where they stand. "When infant Rurik first His Norseland mother nursed, My willing flood the future chieftain bore: To Alexander's fame I lent my ancient name, What time my waves ran red with Pagan gore. "Then Peter came. I laughed To feel his little craft Borne on my bosom round the marshy isles: His daring dream to aid, My chafing floods I laid, And saw my shores transfixed with arrowy piles. "I wait the far-off day When other dreams shall sway The House of Empire builded by my side,-- Dreams that already soar From yonder palace-door, And cast their wavering colors on my tide,-- "Dreams where white temples rise Below the purple skies, By waters blue, which winter never frets,-- Where trees of dusky green From terraced gardens lean, And shoot on high the reedy minarets. "Shadows of mountain-peaks Vex my unshadowed creeks; Dark woods o'erhang my silvery birchen bowers; And islands, bald and high, Break my clear round of sky, And ghostly odors blow from distant flowers. "Then, ere the cold winds chase These visions from my face, I see the starry phantom of a crown, Beside whose blazing gold This cheating pomp is cold, A moment hover, as the veil drops down. "Build on! That day shall see My streams forever free. Swift as the wind, and silent as the snow, The frost shall split each wall: Your domes shall crack and fall: My bolts of ice shall strike your barriers low!" On palace, temple, spire, The morn's descending fire In thousand sparkles o'er the city fell: Life's rising murmur drowned The Neva where he wound Between his isles: he keeps his secret well. ROBSON. In the whole of London there is not a dirtier, narrower, and more disreputable thoroughfare than Wych Street. It runs from that lowest part of Drury Lane where Nell Gwyn once had her lodgings, and stood at her door in very primitive costume to see the milkmaids go a-Maying, and pa
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123   124  
125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   149   >>   >|  



Top keywords:
palace
 

Dreams

 

temples

 

islands

 

streams

 
silent
 
birchen
 

Maying

 

bowers

 
forever

starry

 

distant

 
phantom
 

Beside

 

visions

 
flowers
 

blazing

 
moment
 

ghostly

 
cheating

disreputable

 

thoroughfare

 

Street

 
narrower
 
dirtier
 

ROBSON

 

London

 
milkmaids
 
costume
 

primitive


lodgings

 
lowest
 

secret

 

temple

 
descending
 

silvery

 

barriers

 

strike

 

thousand

 
drowned

Between

 
murmur
 

rising

 

sparkles

 

ancient

 

Alexander

 

future

 

chieftain

 

marshy

 
daring