This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1898 Excerpt: ...can hardhearted be. From Val de Pistre rises wild, In Neustria, a mountain lone Whose king a daughter had--sole child, More highly valued than his throne. Who woos, to win her must that hill upbreast, And haltless bear her to its skiey crest. And many tried, and many failed, When one, she loved, the steep assailed Unbreathing, till far summit topped He, fainting, sudden dying dropped, But to be folded in embrace Of her, too, dying on his face: I envy the dead lover's case. That cruel doom I could not blame, Whose equal crack all crushing came; No smallage, night-shade, cypress, yew Then unto death were justments due, Unnecessary, and consumed With all, in one destruction tombed. Thoughts swift, as of a wretch who drowns, Contrary course through my despair, While passion, amorous of frowns, Caresses the rude face of care. Scarcely that contest was more warm, When with Saint Michael Satan fought In close embrace of fiery storm. Colour, which glows to hint the thought, Painting the Devil passing well, Singes the Saint too sore with hell. Which she; which I; and which shall go to wall? Heavens how I love her all in all. As Russia, leaving Moscow fired, Transporting all love held most dear, From coming Buonaparte retired, Who only ruin thus acquired From lingering patriot hate and fear, The bliss, so being lost, I sought, Compressing and extracting then, To leave my fooled successor nought, And in her heart no power again To love, as it had loved before, Though heaven should smile, and earth adore--I, timorous blackbird whistling strong; She, adder deaf to all my song. And still I would the agony prolong. But like heated sands, whose every grain Is separate world of stinging pain, Are the sore scathing words of woman, When she, besieged, becomes inhuman. There ...