"Monarch" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... these days a quaintly anachronistic effect, and at least serves to emphasise the neutral origin of the story. However, they are of course successful; and in the last chapter Prince Ivor manages to be enormously astonished at finding that the mysterious monarch of Samavia, for whom he has been working, is none other than his own father—an obvious fact that, with truly royal tactfulness, he had contrived to ignore throughout the story. My advice to the author is to write up her villains (at present ...
— Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 150, February 2, 1916 • Various
... Bag-jagderags are become, through you, our brothers and good friends. They too desire to bask beneath the sunshine of your smile. Behold then, I bring to you the Sacred Crown of Popsipetel which, since ancient days when this island and its peoples were one, beneath one monarch, has rested on no kingly brow. Oh Kindly One, we are bidden by the united voices of the peoples of this land to carry you to the Whispering Rocks, that there, with all respect and majesty, you may be crowned our king—King of all ...
— The Voyages of Doctor Dolittle • Hugh Lofting
... the most delightful excursion that Castellamare can offer is the ascent to the summit of Monte Sant' Angelo, that monarch of the Bay of Naples, whose lofty crest gleams with snowy streaks until the spring be well advanced. The lazy or the feeble can make use of one of the poor oppressed donkeys, but it is better to engage its ragged master, who without his four-footed drudge to whack ...
— The Naples Riviera • Herbert M. Vaughan
... who, upon an Alpine peak, Stands, when the sunrise lifts the East, And gilds the crown and lights the cheek Of largest monarch down to least, Of all the summits ...
— The Mistress of the Manse • J. G. Holland
... hither and list to my story— Merry and brief will the narrative be. Here, like a monarch, I reign in my glory— Master am I, boys, of all that I see! Where once frowned a forest, a garden is smiling— The meadow and moorland are marshes no more; And there curls the smoke of my cottage, beguiling The children who cluster like grapes round my door. Then enter, boys; cheerly, ...
— Poems • George P. Morris
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