The Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction, Volume 15: German Fiction |
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Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
Albert already answer arms asked beautiful began believe better Botho called Charlotte charming child close comes continued cried dark dear delight dike dikemaster door Elke everything expression eyes face father feel felt followed Frau Dörr front garden girl give half hand happy Hauke head hear heard heart hold horse hour keep knew land laughed leave Lena light live longer looked master mean mind morning mother nature never night once passed perhaps present remain replied returned rose round seemed side soon soul speak stand steps stood sure talk tears tell things thought to-day told took turned voice wait walked whole wife window wish woman young
Populaire passages
Pagina 51 - I sit in my grief: I wait for morning in my tears! Rear the tomb, ye friends of the dead. Close it not till Colma come. My life flies away like a dream. Why should I stay behind? Here shall I rest with my friends, by the stream of the sounding rock.
Pagina 52 - Erath, son of Odgal, repined: his brother had been slain by Armar. He came disguised like a son of the sea: fair was his skiff on the wave; white his locks of age; calm his serious brow. Fairest of women, he said, lovely daughter of Armin! a rock not distant in the sea bears a tree on its side: red shines the fruit afar! There Armar waits for Daura.
Pagina 51 - Bent is his head of age ; red his tearful eye. Alpin, thou son of song, why alone on the silent hill ? why complainest thou, as a blast in the wood ; as a wave on the lonely shore ? ALPIN. My tears, O Ryno ! are for the dead ; my voice for those that have passed away. Tall thou art on the hill ; fair among the sons of the vale. But thou shalt fall like Morar;* the mourner shall sit on thy tomb. The hills shall know thee no more ; thy bow shall lie in the hall, unstrung ! Thou wert swift, O Morar...
Pagina 50 - Cold, cold, are their breasts of clay ! Oh, from the rock on the hill, from the top of the windy steep, speak, ye ghosts of the dead ! Speak, I will not be afraid ! Whither are ye gone to rest ? In what cave of the hill shall I find the departed? No feeble voice is on the gale : no answer...
Pagina 50 - Colma. — It is night ; I am alone, forlorn on the hill of storms. The wind is heard in the mountain. The torrent pours down the rock. No hut receives me from the rain; forlorn on the hill of winds!
Pagina 50 - Cease a little while, O wind ! stream, be thou silent a while! let my voice be heard around. Let my wanderer hear me! Salgar! it is Colma who calls. Here is the tree and the rock. Salgar, my love! I am here. Why delayest thou thy coming?
Pagina 50 - Who lie on the heath beside me? Are they my love and my brother? Speak to me, O my friends! To Colma they give no reply. Speak to me: I am alone! My soul is tormented with fears! Ah! they are dead! Their swords are red from the fight. O my brother! my brother! why hast thou slain my Salgar? why, O Salgar! hast thou slain my brother?
Pagina 12 - ... and he is also happy, because he is a man. And then, however limited his sphere, he still preserves in his bosom the sweet feeling of liberty, and knows that he can quit his prison whenever he likes. MAY 26. You know of old my ways of settling anywhere, of selecting a little cottage in some cosey spot, and of putting up in it with every inconvenience.
Pagina 20 - And oh, do those departed ones know how we are employed here? Do they know when we are well and happy ? Do they know when we recall their memories with the fondest love? In the silent hour of evening the shade of my mother hovers round me; when seated in the midst of my children. I see them assembled near me as they used to assemble near her; and then I raise my anxious eyes to heaven, and wish she could look down upon us, and witness how I fulfil the promise I made to her in her last moments to...
Pagina 52 - Sad I am! nor small is my cause of woe! Carmor, thou hast lost no son; thou hast lost no daughter of beauty. Colgar the valiant lives; and Annira, fairest maid. The boughs of thy house ascend, O Carmor! but Armin is the last of his race. Dark is thy bed, O Daura! deep thy sleep in the tomb! When shalt thou awake with thy songs? with all thy voice of music? Arise, winds of autumn, arise; blow along the heath! streams of the mountains roar! roar tempests, in the groves of my oaks! walk through broken...
Bibliografische gegevens
| Titel | The Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction, Volume 15: German Fiction Volume 15 van The Harvard Classics Shelf of Fiction, William Allan Neilson |
| Auteurs | J W Von Goethe, Theodor Fontane, Gottfried Keller, Theodor Storm |
| Uitgever | P. F. Collier & son, 1917 |
| Oorspronkelijk uit | Harvard University |
| Gedigitaliseerd | 20 juli 2005 |
| Citatie exporteren | BiBTeX EndNote RefMan |