The Inheritance, Band 2

H.C.Carey & I.Lea, 1824

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Seite 220 - O how canst thou renounce the boundless store Of charms which Nature to her votary yields ! The warbling woodland, the resounding shore, The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields; All that the genial ray of morning gilds, And all that echoes to the song of even, All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields, And all the dread magnificence of Heaven...
Seite 54 - If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island cut off from other lands, but a continent that joins to them...
Seite 46 - Discourse may want an animated — No — To brush the surface and to make it flow ; But still remember, if you mean to please, To press your point with modesty and ease.
Seite 163 - ... of her, yet still considered honour, religion, and duty above her, nor ever suffered the intrusion of such a dotage as should blind him from marking her imperfections...
Seite 332 - DRY'ST THE MOURNER'S TEAR. (AiR. — HAYDN.) •' He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." — Psalm cxlvii. 3. OH Thou who dry'st the mourner's tear. How dark this world would be, If, when deceived and wounded here, We could not fly to Thee. The friends who in our sunshine live, When winter comes, are flown ; And he who has but tears to give, Must weep those tears alone.
Seite 46 - J'entre en une humeur noire, en un chagrin profond, Quand je vois vivre entre eux les hommes comme ils font; Je ne trouve partout que lâche flatterie, Qu'injustice, intérêt, trahison, fourberie. Je n'y puis plus tenir, j'enrage, et mon dessein Est de rompre en visière à tout le genre humain.
Seite 126 - Twas his own voice — she could not err — Throughout the breathing world's extent There was but one such voice for her, So kind, so soft, so eloquent ! Oh ! sooner shall the rose of May Mistake her own sweet nightingale, And to some meaner minstrel's lay Open her bosom's glowing veil, * Than Love shall ever doubt a tone, A breath of the beloved one...
Seite 20 - Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread : But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where past the shaft no trace is found. As from the wing no scar the sky retains, The parted wave no furrow from the keel, So dies in human hearts the thought of death : E'en with the tender tear which Nature sheds O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.
Seite 339 - ... very humane and learned, but enthusiastic writer. It is an attempt to save the credit of human nature. Without seeking to enter into the dread question of moral responsibility, we may in some degree extenuate, without excusing, the crimes of the persecutors, by ascribing them to virtual insanity. In considering the actions of the mind, it should never be forgotten, that its affections pass into each other like the tints of the rainbow : though we can easily distinguish them when they have assumed...
Seite 131 - Or the warm deeds of some important day: Hot from the field, indulge not yet your limbs In wish'd repose; nor court the fanning gale, Nor taste the spring. O ! by the sacred tears Of widows, orphans, mothers, sisters, sires, Forbear ! no other pestilence has driven Such myriads o'er th

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