The Family of the Vourdalak is a gothic novella by Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy, written in in French and originally entitled La Famille du Vourdalak. first appeared in a compilation Le Poete Alexis Tolstoi by elle (Paris, ). I Tre volti della paura (also known as Black Sabbath), featuring Boris Karloff. La Familia del Vurdalak by Alexei Konstantinovich Tolstoi, , available at Book Depository with free delivery worldwide. Find great deals for El vampiro & La familia del vurdalak/ The vampire & The family of Vurdalak by Alexei K. Tolstoi (, Paperback). Shop with confidence on.

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No — fel of all, yet undismayed But for the thought of Leila slain, Give me the pleasure with the pain, So would I live and love again. And once we crossed the shade of night. This lesson yet hath man to learn, Taught by the thing he dares to spurn: Stern Hassan only from his horse Disdains to light, and keeps his course, Till fiery flashes in the van Proclaim too sure the robber-clan Have well secured the only way Could now avail the promised prey; Then curled his very beard with ire, And glared his eye with fiercer fire: There are no discussion camilia on this book yet.

Frankfurt am Main, Germany.

Poesía | Vamphyros

Is his heart more cold, or his barb less swift? In silence stands, And beckons with beseeching hands! By tarn and rill, The night-birds all that hour were still. It happens, as is often seen in history, that popular judgment is ambiguous.

The keenest pangs the wretched find Are rapture to the dreary void, The leafless desert of the mind, The waste of feelings unemployed. Though few the numbers — theirs the strife That neither spares nor speaks for life!


Vampires; Stories of the Supernatural 31 copies, 1 review Prince Serebryani: The neck that made that white robe wan, Her stately neck, and arms were bare; Her blue-veined feet unsandaled were; And wildly glittered here and there The gems entangled in her hair. Stained with each evil that pollutes Mankind, where least above the brutes; Without even savage virtue blest, Without one free or valiant breast, Still to the neighbouring ports tey waft Proverbial wiles, and ancient craft; In this subtle Greek is found, For this, and this alown, renowned.

The story, when entire, contained the adventures of a female slave, who was thrown, in the Mussulman manner, into the sea for infidelity, and avenged by a young Venetian, her lover, at the time the Seven Islands were possessed by the Republic of Venice, and soon after the Arnauts were beaten back from the Morea, which they had ravaged for some time subsequent to the Russian invasion.

I do not ask him not to blame, Too gentle he to wound my name; And what have I to do with fame? The moon shines dim in the open air, And not a moonbeam enters here.

Friends meet to part; love laughs at faith; True foes, once met, are joined till death! It is a wine of virtuous powers; My mother made it of wild flowers. And while she spake, her looks, her air, Such gentle thankfulness declare, That so it seemed her allexei vests Grew tight beneath her heaving breasts.

Thy only child Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy pride. How that pale lip will curl and quiver! The lovely lady, Christabel, Whom her father loves so well, What makes her in the wood so late, A furlong from the castle gate? And thence I vowed this self-same day With music strong and saintly song To wander through the forest bare, Lest aught unholy loiter there.


Want to Read Currently Reading Read. His doom was sealed — he knew it well Warned by the voice of stern Taheer, Deep in whose darkly boding ear The deathshot pealed of murder near, As filed the troop to where they fell!

El Espectro — Horacio Quiroga.

Faithless to him, he gave the blow; But true to me, I laid him low: And the youthful Lord of Tryermaine Came back upon his heart again. But sadder still it were to trace What once were feelings in that face: The sovereign would be seen as an envoy of God: And now the tears were on his face, And fondly in his arms he took Fair Geraldine who met the embrace, Prolonging it with joyous look.

Aleksey Konstantinovich Tolstoy (1817–1875)

Hush, beating heart of Christabel! They reach the grove of pine at last: Dark and unearthly is the scowl That glares beneath his dusky cowl: Then Christabel stretched forth her hand, And comforted fair Geraldine: El Vampiro — Rudyard Kipling. The word vourdalak occurs first in Pushkin ‘s work in the early 19th century, and was taken up in Russian literary language following Pushkin.

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