Papers of the Manchester Literary Club, Bind 24

Forsideomslag
H. Rawson & Company, 1898
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Side 498 - Ask me no more whither doth haste The nightingale, when May is past; For in your sweet dividing throat She winters, and keeps warm her note.
Side 498 - ASK me no more whither do stray The golden atoms of the day, For in pure love heaven did prepare Those powders to enrich your hair. Ask me no more...
Side 497 - HE that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires: As old Time makes these decay, So his flames must waste away. But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts, and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined, Kindle never-dying fires: — Where these are not, I despise Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
Side 384 - As ships, becalmed at eve, that lay With canvas drooping, side by side, Two towers of sail at dawn of day Are scarce long leagues apart descried ; When fell the night, upsprung the breeze, And all the darkling hours they plied, Nor dreamt but each the self-same seas By each was cleaving, side by side...
Side 76 - ... supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank verse as the best of you; and being an absolute Johannes factotum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country.
Side 266 - I seem in star and flower To feel thee some diffusive power I do not therefore love thee less. " My love involves the love before ; My love is vaster passion now ; Though mixed with God and Nature thou, I seem to love thee more and more.
Side 484 - My panting side was charged, when I withdrew, To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. There was I found by one who had himself Been hurt by the archers.
Side 432 - How happy is he born and taught That serveth not another's will; Whose armour is his honest thought And simple truth his utmost skill...
Side 393 - ... too rare, grow now my visits here! But once I knew each field, each flower, each stick, And with the country-folk acquaintance made By barn in threshing-time, by new-built rick. Here, too, our shepherd-pipes we first assay'd. Ah me ! this many a year My pipe is lost, my shepherd's-holiday. Needs must I lose them, needs with heavy heart Into the world and wave of men depart; But Thyrsis of his own will went away.
Side 28 - Thou ling'ring star, with less'ning ray, That lov'st to greet the early morn, Again thou usher'st in the day My Mary from my soul was torn. O Mary! dear departed shade! Where is thy place of blissful rest? Seest thou thy lover lowly laid? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?

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