Tales of a tourist, Томи 3 – 4

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Сторінка 17 - Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, • But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die...
Сторінка 198 - There comes a token like a scorpion's sting, Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued ; And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound — A tone of music — summer's eve — or spring — A flower — the wind — the ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
Сторінка 31 - ... bowers to lay me down; To husband out life's taper at the close, And keep the flame from wasting by repose; I still had hopes — for pride attends us still — Amidst the swains to show my...
Сторінка 91 - From me they learned to inlay their phraseology with variegated chips of exotic metaphor : by me too their inventive faculties were called forth : — yes, sir, by me they were instructed to clothe ideal walls with gratuitous fruits — to insinuate obsequious rivulets into visionary groves — to teach courteous shrubs to nod their approbation of the grateful soil ; or on emergencies to raise upstart oaks, where 100 there never had been an acorn ; to create a delightful vicinage without the assistance...
Сторінка 52 - Yes, weep, and however my foes may condemn, Thy tears shall efface their decree ; For Heaven can witness, though guilty to them, I have been but too faithful to thee ! With thee were the dreams of my earliest love ; Every thought of my reason was thine : In my last humble prayer to the Spirit above, Thy name shall be mingled with mine...
Сторінка 198 - When least we deem of such, calls up to view The spectres whom no exorcism can bind, The cold — the changed — perchance the dead— -anew, The mourn'd, the loved, the lost — too many! — yet how few!
Сторінка 167 - Since trifles make the sum of human things, And half our misery from our foibles springs; Since life's best joys consist in peace and ease, And though but few can serve, yet all may please;.
Сторінка 227 - Wheresoe'er I turn my view, All is strange, yet nothing new: Endless labour all along, Endless labour to be wrong; Phrase that Time has flung away; Uncouth words in disarray, Trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet, Ode, and elegy, and sonnet.
Сторінка 198 - But ever and anon of griefs subdued There comes a token like a Scorpion's sting, Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued ; And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever...
Сторінка 165 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...

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