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Seite 583 - Ohy woman! lovely woman! nature made thee .To temper man : we had been brutes without you. Angels are painted fair, to look like you : There's in you all that we believe of Heaven, Amazing brightness, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.
Seite 414 - When we had got within half a league of Moulines, at a little opening in the road leading to a thicket, I discovered poor Maria sitting under a poplar; — she was sitting with her elbow in her lap, and her head leaning on one side within her hand.
Seite 414 - I felt such undescribable emotions within me, as I am sure could not be accounted for from any combinations of matter and motion.
Seite 415 - I saw an S marked in one of the corners. She had since that, she told me, strayed as far as Rome, and walked round St. Peter's once, and returned back ; that...
Seite 627 - HAIL, mildly pleasing solitude, Companion of the wise and good, But, from whose holy, piercing eye, The herd of fools and villains fly. Oh ! how I love with thee to walk, And listen to thy whisper'd talk, Which innocence and truth imparts And melts the most obdurate hearts.
Seite 603 - And gloomy darkness roll'd around his head. The fleet in view, he twang'd his deadly bow, And hissing fly the feather'd fates below. On mules and dogs th' infection first began ; And last the vengeful arrows fix'd in man.
Seite 340 - Given ear-rings we will wear, Bracelets of our lovers' hair, Which they on our arms shall twist, With their names carved on our wrist ; All the money that we owe We in tokens will bestow...
Seite 414 - Sylvio, said she. I looked in Maria's eyes, and saw she was thinking more of her father than of her lover or her little goat ; for as she uttered them the tears trickled down
Seite 408 - Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud, To damp our brainless ardours, and abate That glare of life which often blinds the wise. Our dying friends are pioneers, to smooth Our rugged pass to death ; to break those bars Of terror and abhorrence Nature throws Cross our obstructed way, and thus to make Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm.
Seite 655 - From the west as it wantonly blows. Fond Zephyr caresses the vine ; The bee steals a kiss from the rose, And willows and woodbines entwine : The pinks by the rivulet side, That border the vernal alcove, Bend downward to kiss the soft tide : For May is the mother of Love.