The Poetic and Dramatic Works of Robert Browning, àÅèÁ·Õè 2Houghton, Mifflin, 1891 |
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Adolf All's Anael arms Austin Berth bezants blood Brac Braccio breast breath brow cheek Chiappino Cleves Courtiers dare deed Djabal doubt dream Druses Duchess Duke earth Enter eyes face Faenza faith Florence Florentines Gaucelme give God's gold grace Guen Guendolen Guibert guilders Hakeem hand head hear heard heart heaven hope Jacynth Juliers keep Khalil lady lady's laugh leave Lebanon lips live look Lord Loys Lucca Luitolfo Luria Mildred neath never night Nuncio o'er once past Pisa praise Prefect Prince Puccio ride rose round sake seemed shame silent soul speak spoke stand sure sure as fate tell thee there's thine Thorold thou thought Tresh Tresham true truth turn VALENCE Venice wait What's word wrong
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˹éÒ 2 - I SPRANG to the stirrup, and Joris, and he ; I galloped, Dirck galloped, we galloped all three ; " Good speed ! " cried the watch, as the gatebolts undrew ; "Speed !" echoed the wall to us galloping through ; Behind shut the postern, the lights sank to rest, And into the midnight we galloped abreast. Not a word to each other ; we kept the great pace Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place ; I turned in my saddle and made its girths tight, Then...
˹éÒ 283 - You should have heard the Hamelin people Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple. 'Go,' cried the Mayor, 'and get long poles! Poke out the nests and block up the holes! Consult with carpenters and builders, And leave in our town not even a trace Of the rats!' - when suddenly, up the face Of the Piper perked in the market-place, With a, 'First, if you please, my thousand guilders!
˹éÒ 229 - Then off there flung in smiling joy, And held himself erect By just his horse's mane, a boy: You hardly could suspect — (So tight he kept his lips compressed, Scarce any blood came through) You looked twice ere you saw his breast Was all but shot in two. "Well," cried he, "Emperor, by God's grace We've got you Ratisbon!
˹éÒ 22 - Sixteen years old when she died ! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name ; It was not her time to love ; beside, Her life had many a hope and aim, Duties enough and little...
˹éÒ 10 - Gr-rr — there go, my heart's abhorrence! Water your damned flower-pots, do! If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, God's blood, would not mine kill you! What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming? Oh, that rose has prior claims — Needs its leaden vase filled brimming? Hell dry you up with its flames!
˹éÒ 231 - Her mantle laps Over my lady's wrist too much,' or 'Paint Must never hope to reproduce the faint Half-flush that dies along her throat:' such stuff Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough 20 For calling up that spot of joy.
˹éÒ 232 - E'en then would be some stooping; and I choose Never to stoop. Oh sir, she smiled, no doubt, Whene'er I passed her; but who passed without Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive. Will't please you rise? We'll meet The company below, then. I repeat, The Count your master's known munificence Is ample warrant that no just pretence Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Though his fair daughter's self, as I avowed At starting, is...
˹éÒ 44 - Hark! where my blossomed pear-tree in the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the clover Blossoms and dewdrops — at the bent spray's edge That's the wise thrush; he sings each song twice over, Lest you should think he never could recapture The first fine careless rapture!
˹éÒ 22 - Evelyn Hope, what meant, I shall say, In the lower earth, in the years long still, That body and soul so pure and gay? Why your hair was amber, I shall divine, And your mouth of your own geranium's red, And what you would do with me, in fine, In the new life come in the old one's stead. I have lived, I shall say, so much since then, Given up myself so many times, Gained me the gains of various men, Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes...
˹éÒ 1 - THE LOST LEADER. Just for a handful of silver he left us, Just for a riband to stick in his coat — Found the one gift of which fortune bereft us, Lost all the others she lets us devote...