Vicissitudes of Families: And Other Essays, Bind 1

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Longman, Green, Longman and Roberts, 1860 - 437 sider
 

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Side 206 - The seas are quiet when the winds give o'er; So, calm are we when passions are no more: For then we know how vain it was to boast Of fleeting things so certain to be lost.
Side 233 - Without force, or opposition, it subdued the fierceness of pride and power; it obliged sovereigns to submit to the soft collar of social esteem, compelled stern authority to submit to elegance, and gave a dominating vanquisher of laws, to be subdued by manners.
Side 74 - The floors of plaster, and the walls of dung, On once a flock-bed, but repair'd with straw, With tape-tied curtains, never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red, Great Villiers lies...
Side 160 - Whole ages have fled and their works decayed, And nations have scattered been ; But the stout old Ivy shall never fade, From its hale and hearty green. The brave old plant in its lonely days, Shall fatten upon the past: For the stateliest building man can raise, Is the Ivy's food at last. Creeping on, where time has been, A rare old plant is the Ivy green.
Side 201 - Twas thine own Genius gave the final blow, And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low : So the struck Eagle, stretched upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart, And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart ; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel ; While the same plumage that had warmed his nest Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Side 40 - He hath filled the hungry with good things ; and the rich He hath sent empty away.
Side 201 - Chloris, yourself you so excel, When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought, That like a spirit with this spell Of my own teaching I am caught. That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which on the shaft that made him die, Espy'da feather of his own Wherewith he wont to soar so high. Had Echo with so sweet a grace Narcissus' loud complaints return'd, Not for reflection of his face, But of his voice, the boy had burn'd.
Side 200 - Twas thine own genius gave the final blow, And help'd to plant the wound that laid thee low: So the struck eagle, stretch'd upon the plain, No more through rolling clouds to soar again, View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, And wing'd the shaft that quiver'd in his heart; Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel, He nursed the pinion which impell'd the steel; While the same plumage that had warm'd his nest . Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.
Side 166 - Jakes, some to scour their candlesticks, and some to rub their boots. Some they sold to the grocers and soap-sellers, and some they sent over sea to the book-binders, not in small numbers, but at times whole ships full.
Side 75 - There are twenty of Roslin's barons bold Lie buried within that proud chapelle ; Each one the holy vault doth hold — But the sea holds lovely Rosabelle. And each St. Clair was buried there, With candle, with book, and with knell, But the sea-caves rung, and the wild winds sung The dirge of lovely Rosabelle...

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