A series of genuine letters between Henry and Frances [by R. and E. Griffith].

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W. Richardson and L. Urquhart, 1770

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Seite 210 - Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, And for thy maintenance: commits his body To painful labour, both by sea and land...
Seite 31 - Twas then, O Solitude, to thee His early vows were paid, From heart sincere, and warm, and free, Devoted to the shade. Ah why did Fate his steps decoy In stormy paths to roam, Remote from all congenial joy !— O take the Wanderer home.
Seite 30 - To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms Ne'er drew Ambition's eye, Scap'da tumultuous world's alarms, To your retreats I fly. Deep in your most sequester'd bower Let me at last recline, Where Solitude, mild, modest Power, Leans on her ivy'd shrine.
Seite 32 - Breaks from the rustling boughs, And down the lone vale sails away To more profound repose. " O, while to thee the woodland pours Its wildly warbling song, And balmy from the bank of flowers The Zephyr breathes along; Let no rude sound invade from far, No vagrant foot be nigh, No ray from Grandenr's gilded car Flash on the startled eye.
Seite 31 - Fair! Thy heavenly smile how win ! Thy smile, that smooths the brow of Care, And stills the storm within. O wilt thou to thy favourite grove Thine ardent votary bring, And bless his hours, and bid them move Serene, on silent wing.
Seite 30 - Ye cliffs, in hoary grandeur pil'd High o'er the glimmering dale ; Ye woods, along whose windings wild Murmurs the solemn gale : Where Melancholy strays forlorn, And Woe retires to weep, What time the wan Moon's yellow horn Gleams on the western deep : " To you, ye wastes, whose artless charms Ne'er drew ambition's eye, Scap'da tumultuous world's alarms, To your retreats...
Seite 13 - I find the Booksellers will give nothing worth taking for it. Mr. J has tried them. They say that they do not dispute the Merit of it, but that while the Public continue equally to buy a bad thing as a good one, they do not think an Author can reasonably expect that they will make a Difference in the Price.
Seite 98 - As the bright stars, and milky way, • Show'd by the night, are hid by day : So we in that accomplish'd mind, HehVd by the night, new graces find, Which by the splendor of her view, Dazzled before, we never knew.
Seite 31 - Ah ! why did fate his fteps decoy, In ftormy paths to roam, Remote from all congenial joy ! — O take thy wanderer home. Henceforth thy awful haunts be mine ! The long-abandon'd hill ; The hollow cliff, whofe waving pine O'er hangs the darkfome rill ; Whence the fcar'd owl on pinions grey.
Seite 189 - I suppose, as he did me, on the Second Day of our Acquaintance. But, in truth, there was nothing in the Affair worth making a Secret of — The World that knew of their Correspondence, knew the worst of it, which was merely a simple Folly. Any other Idea of the Matter would be more than the most abandoned Vice could render probable. To intrigue with a Vampire! To sink into the Arms of Death alive!

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