Truths illustrated by great authors [ed. by W. White].1885 - 560 pagina's |
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Pagina 19
... hours To breathe their momentary Sweets , then go . ' Tis the stainless Soul within WH That outshines the fairest Skin . Beauty . Rogers . BUT then her Face , So lovely , yet so arch , so full of mirth , The overflowings of an innocent ...
... hours To breathe their momentary Sweets , then go . ' Tis the stainless Soul within WH That outshines the fairest Skin . Beauty . Rogers . BUT then her Face , So lovely , yet so arch , so full of mirth , The overflowings of an innocent ...
Pagina 23
... hour , And , lo ! the falling off of Beauty's flower ; So through all Nature is the progress made , - The Bud , the Bloom , the Fruit , -and then we fade . Beauty . Spenser . - FOR Beauty is the bait which with delight Doth Man allure ...
... hour , And , lo ! the falling off of Beauty's flower ; So through all Nature is the progress made , - The Bud , the Bloom , the Fruit , -and then we fade . Beauty . Spenser . - FOR Beauty is the bait which with delight Doth Man allure ...
Pagina 28
... hour . And as Good lost , is seld or never found , As faded Gloss no rubbing will refresh , As Flowers dead , lie wither'd on the ground , As broken Glass no cement can redress , So Beauty blemish'd once , for ever's lost , In spite of ...
... hour . And as Good lost , is seld or never found , As faded Gloss no rubbing will refresh , As Flowers dead , lie wither'd on the ground , As broken Glass no cement can redress , So Beauty blemish'd once , for ever's lost , In spite of ...
Pagina 39
... - when the West Opens her golden Bowers of Rest , And a moist radiance from the skies Shoots trembling down , as from the eyes Of some meek penitent , whose last Bright hours atone OR , THINGS NEW AND OLD . 39 NEVER ...
... - when the West Opens her golden Bowers of Rest , And a moist radiance from the skies Shoots trembling down , as from the eyes Of some meek penitent , whose last Bright hours atone OR , THINGS NEW AND OLD . 39 NEVER ...
Pagina 40
Truths William White (bookseller). Of some meek penitent , whose last Bright hours atone for dark ones past , And whose sweet tears , o'er wrong forgiven , Shine , as they fall , with light from Heaven ! Calumny . - Shakespeare . thou as ...
Truths William White (bookseller). Of some meek penitent , whose last Bright hours atone for dark ones past , And whose sweet tears , o'er wrong forgiven , Shine , as they fall , with light from Heaven ! Calumny . - Shakespeare . thou as ...
Overige edities - Alles bekijken
Veelvoorkomende woorden en zinsdelen
Addison Anon Beauty Bliss bosom breast breath Bruyère Byron Chesterfield Cicero Colton Conscience Cowper Cunning Death delight divine doth Dryden Earth Epictetus Evil eyes fair fear feel Flattery Folly Fool Fortune Friends Friendship Fuller Genius give Glory Gold Grace Greville Grief Happiness hath Health Heart Heaven Honesty Honour Hope hour human Humour Joanna Baillie La Bruyère La Rochefoucauld Lavater light live look Love man's mankind Marriage Milton Mind mortal Nature never Night o'er pain Passions Peace Pleasure Plutarch Pope Praise Pride Reason Religion rich Rochefoucauld S. T. Coleridge Seneca Shakespeare sigh Sir Philip Sidney Sir Walter Raleigh Sir William Temple Sleep smile soft Solitude Sorrow Soul Spenser spirit sweet Tacitus taste Tears thee things Thomson thou art thought tongue true Truth Vanity vex'd Vice Virtue wind Wisdom wise Woman words Young Youth
Populaire passages
Pagina 104 - O ! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
Pagina 358 - It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes, Tis mightiest in the mightiest, it becomes The throned monarch better than his crown. His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, The attribute to awe and majesty, Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings: But mercy is above this sceptred sway, It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, It is an attribute to God himself; And earthly power doth then show likest God's When mercy seasons justice...
Pagina 142 - But that I am forbid To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres ; Thy knotted and combined locks to part, And each particular hair to stand on end Like quills upon the fretful porcupine...
Pagina 379 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court ? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, The...
Pagina 446 - Dark-heaving ; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, the throne Of the invisible, — even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Pagina 207 - That monster, custom, who all sense doth eat, Of habits devil, is angel yet in this, That to the use of actions fair and good He likewise gives a frock or livery, That aptly is put on.
Pagina 35 - Thus with the year Seasons return; but not to me returns Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn, Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose, Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine; But cloud instead, and ever-during dark Surrounds me...
Pagina 440 - IX. 0 how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of heaven, O how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven ! X.
Pagina 469 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep Sea, and music in its roar: I love not Man the less, but Nature more...
Pagina 201 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form ; Then have I reason to be fond of grief.