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Side 59 - Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar; Wait the great teacher Death ; and God adore. What future bliss, he gives not thee to know, But gives that hope to be thy blessing now. Hope springs eternal in the human breast: Man never is, but always to be blest. The soul, uneasy and confined, from home, Rests and expatiates in a life to come...
Side 203 - To die, to sleep ; To sleep : perchance to dream : ay, there's the rub ; For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause : there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life...
Side 429 - So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, months and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Side 204 - How many thousand of my poorest subjects Are at this hour asleep ! — O Sleep, O gentle sleep, Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee, That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down...
Side 325 - I REMEMBER, I REMEMBER. I REMEMBER, I remember The house where I was born, The little window where the sun Came peeping in at morn ; He never came a wink too soon. Nor brought too long a day ; But now I often wish the night Had borne my breath away ! I remember, I remember...
Side 144 - We need not bid, for cloister'd cell, Our neighbour and our work farewell, Nor strive to wind ourselves too high For sinful man beneath the sky : The trivial round, the common task, Would furnish all we ought to ask ; Room to deny ourselves ; a road To bring us, daily, nearer God.
Side 375 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, goddess, bring To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt.
Side 11 - This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall ; Lord of himself, though not of lands ; And having nothing, yet hath all.