Guy Mannering: Or, The Astrologer

Forsideomslag
West and Richardson, 1815

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Side 185 - The close-press'd leaves unoped for many an age, The dull red edging of the well-fill'd page, On the broad back the stubborn ridges roll'd, Where yet the title stands in tarnish'd gold.
Side 70 - ... their bits o' bields, to sleep with the tod and the black-cock in the muirs ! Ride your ways, Ellangowan. Our bairns are hinging at our weary backs ; look that your braw cradle at hame be the fairer spread up ; not that...
Side 26 - They live no longer in the faith of reason ! But still the heart doth need a language, still Doth the old instinct bring back the old names...
Side 35 - Twist ye, twine ye ! even so Mingle shades of joy and woe, Hope and fear, and peace and strife, In the thread of human life. While the mystic twist is spinning, And the infant's life beginning. Dimly seen through twilight bending, Lo, what varied shapes attending! Passions wild, and Follies vain, Pleasures soon exchanged for pain ; Doubt, and Jealousy, and Fear, In the magic dance appear. Now they wax, and now they dwindle, Whirling with the whirling spindle. Twist ye, twine ye ! even so Mingle human...
Side 129 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue, Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours: Where are they?
Side 26 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The power, the beauty, and the majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring. Or chasms and wat'ry depths ; all these have vanished They live no longer in the faith of reason...
Side 56 - ... of provision to perhaps forty such villains in one day, are sure to be insulted by them), but they rob many poor people who live in houses distant from any neighbourhood.
Side 70 - Our bairns are hinging at our weary backs; look that your braw cradle at hame be the fairer spread up : not that I am wishing ill to little Harry, or to the babe that's yet to be born, God forbid,- — and make them kind to the poor, and better folk than their father ! And now, ride e'en your ways ; for these are the last words ye'll ever hear Meg Merrilies speak, and this is the last reise f that I'll ever cut in the bonny woods of Ellangowan.
Side 70 - Yes ; there's thirty yonder, from the auld wife of an hundred to the babe that was born last week, that ye have turned out o' their bits o' bields, to sleep with the tod and the black-cock in the muirs ! Ride your ways, Ellangowan.
Side 66 - He left the executive part of the business to the officers of the law, under the immediate direction of Frank Kennedy, a supervisor, or ridingofficer, belonging to the excise, who had of late become intimate at the Place, and of whom we shall have more to say in the next chapter. Mr. Bertram himself chose that day to make a visit to a friend at some distance.

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