Under seal of confession, by Averil Beaumont, Band 3

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Seite 219 - Leave to enjoy myself. That place, that does Contain my books, the best companions, is To me a glorious court, where hourly I Converse with the old sages and philosophers ; And sometimes for variety I confer With kings and emperors, and weigh their counsels ; Calling their victories, if unjustly got, Unto a strict account ; and in my fancy, Deface their ill-placed statues.
Seite 80 - A shadow flits before me, Not thou, but like to thee : Ah Christ, that it were possible For one short hour to see The souls we loved, that they might tell us What and where they be.
Seite 238 - I've wet my path with tears like dew, Weeping for him when no one knew. My Son, if thou be humbled, poor, Hopeless of honour and of gain, Oh ! do not dread thy mother's door; Think not of me with grief and pain: I now can see with better eyes; And worldly grandeur I despise, And fortune with her gifts and lies.
Seite 219 - To divert, at any time, a troublesome fancy, run to thy BOOKS. They presently fix thee to them, and drive the other out of thy thoughts. They always receive thee with the same kindness.
Seite 263 - Which many an envious slave then breathed in vain From his dim dungeon, and my spirit sprung To meet thee from the woes which had begirt it long ! No more alone, through the world's wilderness, Although I trod the paths of high intent, I journeyed now : no more companionless Where solitude is like despair, I went.
Seite 50 - This noble ensample to his flock he gave, That first he wrought, and afterwards he taught The word of life he from the Gospel caught...
Seite 50 - A true good man there was, there of religion, Pious and poor the parson of a town. But rich he was in holy thought and work; And thereto a right learned man; a clerk That Christ's pure gospel would sincerely preach, And his parishioners devoutly teach.
Seite 20 - It's good to be honest and true; It is good to be off with the old love Before you be on with the new.
Seite 72 - My apprehensions come in crowds; I dread the rustling of the grass ; The very shadows of the clouds Have power to shake me as they pass...
Seite 276 - This world's a city full of straying streets, And death's the market-place, where each one meets.

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