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anguish bard beauty bliss blush breast breath bright brow called cease charm cheek child dear death deem deep Desmond despair doom dreams e'en earth eyes face fair fame fate father fear feel felt fled fond forget friends gaze give glow grace grief hand hast head hear heard heart heaven hope hour Julia Laura leave length less lips look maid marked meet mind muse nature never night Note o'er once pain pale pangs past peace pity praise raised repose rest rise rose round scene seek seemed shed sigh sight sister sleep smile soft soon soothe sorrow sought soul sound sweet tears thee theme thine thou thought trace trembling turn Twas vain voice wake weep wild woes youth
Seite 157 - It is not an open enemy that hath done me this " dishonour, for then I could have borne it. " Neither was it mine adversary that did magnify " himself against me : for then, peradventure, I would " have hid myself from him. "But it was even thou my companion, my guide, ''mine own familiar friend.
Seite 27 - Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Seite 27 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key; As if our hands, our sides, voices...
Seite 17 - What years, i' faith ? Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; let still the woman take An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are.
Seite 1 - Island of bliss! amid the subject seas, That thunder round thy rocky coasts, set up, At once the wonder, terror, and delight, Of distant nations...
Seite 158 - I say so, my lord. For I have read, that God made man, but that man can make God I never yet read: nor I suppose ever shall read it.
Seite 157 - If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep, My dreams presage some joyful news at hand My bosom's -lord sits lightly on his throne, And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.
Seite 146 - Thine ear ia patient of a serious song. flow deep implanted in (he breast of man The dread of death '! I. sing its sovereign cure. Why start at Death ? where is he 1 Death arrived, Is past ; not come, or gone : he's never here. Ere hope, sensation fails. Black-boding man Receives, not suffers, Death's tremendous blow. The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave ; The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm; These...