"Swarth" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... mal de mer. The whole affair is an undoubted success. Mr. Cottrell himself pronounces the luncheon not only satisfactory, but indicative of much promise as regards dinner later on. The gay crowd breaks into knots and parties all over the decks. Now listening to the ballad some swarth Spaniard trills forth to his guitar, anon laughing at some buffo song humorously rendered by a well-known comedian, while ever and again Beauchamp and his brethren clear a space on the deck, and a valse or two becomes ...
— Belles and Ringers • Hawley Smart
... any ragged thistle-stalk Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to balk 70 All hope of greenness? 'tis a brute must walk Pashing their life out, with ...
— Selections from the Poems and Plays of Robert Browning • Robert Browning
... another individual in the train of the plant-hunter— the guide, Ossaroo. It would take pages to describe Ossaroo; and he is worthy of a full description: but we shall leave him to be known by his deeds. Suffice it to say, that Ossaroo is a Hindoo of handsome proportions, with his swarth complexion, large beautiful eyes, and luxuriant black hair, which characterise his race. He is by caste a "shikarree," or hunter, and is not only so by hereditary descent, but he is one of the noted "mighty ...
— The Plant Hunters - Adventures Among the Himalaya Mountains • Mayne Reid
... Queene, your swarth Cymerion, Doth make your Honour of his bodies Hue, Spotted, detested, and abhominable. Why are you sequestred from all your traine? Dismounted from your Snow-white goodly Steed, And wandred hither to an obscure plot, Accompanied with a barbarous ...
— The First Folio [35 Plays] • William Shakespeare
... silent step and dubious look—his wide calzoneros flapping around his ankles, his arms and shoulders shrouded in the mottled serape, his black broad-brimmed hat darkening still more his swarth face—goes the poblano, the denizen of the adobe hut. He shuns the centre of the piazza, keeping around the walls; but at intervals his eyes are turned towards the well with a look of mingled fierceness and fear. He reaches a doorway—it is silently opened by a hand within—he ...
— The War Trail - The Hunt of the Wild Horse • Mayne Reid |
