Browsing named entities in The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier). You can also browse the collection for Hungary (Hungary) or search for Hungary (Hungary) in all documents.

Your search returned 2 results in 2 document sections:

The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Appendix (search)
rse is now his tomb to rear! 1830. Isabella of Austria. Isabella, Infanta of Parma, and consort of Joseph of Austria, predicted herown death, immediately after her marriage with the Emperor. Amidst the gayety and splendor of Vienna and Presburg, she was reserved and melancholy; she believed that Heaven had given her a view of the future, and that her child, the namesake of the great Maria Theresa, would perish with her. Her prediction was fulfilled. 'Midst the palace bowers of Hungary, imperial Presburg's pride, With the noble born and beautiful assembled at her side, She stood beneath the summer heavens, the soft wind sighing on, Stirring the green and arching boughs like dancers in the sun. The beautiful pomegranate flower, the snowy orange bloom, The lotus and the trailing vine, the rose's meek perfume, The willow crossing with its green some statue's marble hair, All that might charm the fresh young sense, or light the soul, was there! But she, a monarch's treasured
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Index of first lines (search)
V. 285. Luck to the craft that bears this name of mine, IV. 155. Maddened by Earth's wrong and evil, II. 213. Maiden! with the fair brown tresses, IV. 16. Make, for he loved thee well, our Merrimac, IV. 298. Maud Muller on a summer's day, i. 148. Men! if manhood still ye claim, III. 98. Men of the North-Land! where's the manly spirit, III. 40. Men said at vespers: All is well, IV. 195. 'Midst the men and things which will, II. 182. 'Midst the palace bowers of Hungary, imperial Presburg's pride, IV. 352. Muttering fine upland staple, prime Sea Island finer, IV. 399. My ear is full of summer sounds, II. 213. My garden roses long ago, IV. 219. My heart was heavy, for its trust had been, II. 109. My lady walks her morning round, i. 373. My old Welsh neighbor over the way, i. 314. My thoughts are all in yonder town, II. 301. Nauhaught, the Indian deacon, who of old, i. 304. 'Neath skies that winter never knew, IV. 204. Never in