The Rose, Or Affection's Gift

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D. Appleton & Company, 1843

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Сторінка 75 - And if this be the science of the stars, I too, with glad and zealous industry, Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith. It is a gentle and affectionate thought, That in immeasurable heights above us, At our first birth, the wreath of love was woven, With sparkling stars for flowers.
Сторінка 198 - FAREWELL, thou busy world, and may We never meet again; Here I can eat, and sleep, and pray, And do more good in one short day Than he who his whole age out-wears Upon the most conspicuous theatres, Where nought but vanity and vice appears.
Сторінка 201 - Here in this despised recess, Would I, maugre winter's cold And the summer's worst excess, Try to live out to sixty full years old ; And, all the while, Without an envious eye On any thriving under Fortune's smile, Contented live, and then contented die.
Сторінка 185 - ... die, If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky ; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frost-work melts away ! But can the wiles of Art, the grasp of Power, Snatch the rich relics of a well-spent hour? These, when the trembling spirit wings her flight, Pour round her path a stream of living light ; And gild -those pure and perfect realms of rest, Where Virtue triumphs, and her sons are blest ! FROM
Сторінка 59 - With a hole behind that his tail went through. And over the hill, and over the dale, And he rambled over the plain ; And backwards and forwards he switched his long tail As a gentleman switches his cane. The " complement externe
Сторінка 201 - With thee I here converse at will, And would be glad to do so still, For it is thou alone that keep'st the soul awake. How calm and quiet a delight Is it, alone, To read and meditate and write, By none offended, and offending none! To walk, ride, sit, or sleep at one's own...
Сторінка 223 - There is a fever of the spirit, The brand of Cain's unresting doom, Which in the lone dark souls that bear it Glows like the lamp in Tullia's tomb : Unlike that lamp, its subtle fire Burns, blasts, consumes its cell, the heart, Till, one by one, hope, joy, desire, Like dreams of shadowy smoke depart. When hope, love, life itself, are only Dust — spectral memories — dead and cold — The unfed fire burns bright and lonely, Like that undying...
Сторінка 121 - ... independent in his opinions, and constant in his attachments. He had a pet sheep-dog (for amongst his numerous avocations he occasionally acted as under-shepherd), a spectral, ghastly-looking animal, with a huge white head and neck, and a gaunt black body — Mephistopheles might have put himself into such a shape. He had also a pet donkey, the raggedest brute upon the common, of whom he was part owner, and...
Сторінка 182 - I have been laboriously, in different situations, discharging the duties which belong to the profession, of which I have the honour to be a member...
Сторінка 73 - Star, for on the day on which I entered the University of Halle I wanted three days of attaining my twentieth year. Those three days seemed the longest and most tedious that I had ever passed ; but at length the fateful morning dawned, on the evening of which, a few minutes before the hour of eight, the hour of my birth, I hastened to a secluded place at a short distance from the town, and planting myself there, gazed earnestly and intently upon the belt of Orion. I had not gazed long before a peculiar...

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