. L'Argosy. fiume, vedendo sul alto, è stato riempito con improvviso languore:- o cloud, è detto, lei mi rendono triste, si danneggiano il legno e prato;il mio volto, tanto ultimamente luminoso e lieto, ora è contaminato con l'ombra. Il cloud computing è andato indietro. Il sole brillava in tutta la sua luminosità dorata :la felice brook su cui brillò Carolled di vero cuore-leggerezza.ancora ogni giorno qualche vita è trascorso, e ogni notte affondò inferiore,e da-e-da così lento è andato, raramente potrebbe andare più lentamente. E ben presto ha perso tutta la forza vitale sotto il feroce suns burning;non vi era la vita in tutta la sua lunghezza, nessun potere di muoversi, girando.O cloud, O

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. The Argosy. river, seeing it on high, Was filled with sudden languor:— O cloud, it said, you make me sad, You injure wood and meadow;My face, so lately bright and glad, Is now defiled with shadow. The cloud went back. The sun shone on In all its golden brightness :The happy brook on which it shone Carolled for true heart-lightness.Yet every day some life it spent, And every night sank lower, And by-and-by so slow it went, It scarcely could go slower. And soon it lost all vital strength Beneath the suns fierce burning;There was no life in all its length, No power of moving, turning.O cloud, O cloud, come back, it said, For I am weak with sighing, And drop some tears upon my bed To comfort me, in dying. The cloud came back. It rained that night, And all the long day after, And though the sun was hidden quite, The valley rang with laughter.And then the brook with smiles confest— And seemed to like confessing—The clouds that give us most unrest May be most full of blessing. J. T. Burton Wollaston.. THE ARGOSY. MARCH, 188 i. COURT NETHERLEIGH. BY MRS. HENRY WOOD, AUTHOR OF EAST LYNNE.CHAPTER VII. DESPERATION. ALONE in the oak-parlour at Moat Grange, playing soft bits ofmelody in the summer twilight, sat Selina Dalrymple, her verypretty face slightly flushed, her bright hair pushed from her face.Ordinarily of a calm and equable temperament, Selina was yet rathergiven to work herself up to restlessness on occasion. She was ex-pecting Oscar Dalrymple; and though the excitement did not arisefor himself, it did for the news he might bring. There he is! she cried, as a step was heard on the gravel.He has walked up from the station. Oscar Dalrymple came in, very quiet as usual, not a speck of dustor other sign of travel upon him, looking spick and span as though hehad but come out of the next room. Oscar Dalrymples place, asmall patrimony called Knutford, lay some three or four miles off;he would probably walk on there by-and-by, if he did not sleep at theGrange. I thought

Parole chiave associate all'immagine

• bookcentury1800
• bookdecade1860
• bookidargosythe31w
• bookyear1865