The Works of Walter Savage Landor, Svazek 2

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Strana 270 - These may she never share ! Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold, Than daisies in the mould, Where children spell, athwart the churchyard gate, His name and life's brief date.
Strana 72 - With what to sight or smell was sweet, from thee How shall I part, and whither wander down Into a lower world, to this obscure And wild ? how shall we breathe in other air Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits?
Strana 166 - But Beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye, To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit, From the rash hand of bold Incontinence.
Strana 136 - For verily I say unto you, Till heaven and earth pass, one jot or one tittle shall in nowise pass from the law, till all be fulfilled.
Strana 486 - We are what suns and winds and waters make us; The mountains are our sponsors, and the rills Fashion and win their nursling with their smiles.
Strana 166 - Two such I saw what time the laboured ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, And the swinkt hedger at his supper sat...
Strana 160 - It suffices if the whole drama be found not produced beyond the fifth act, of the style and uniformity, and that commonly called the plot, whether intricate or explicit, which is nothing indeed but such economy or disposition of the fable as may stand best with verisimilitude and decorum...
Strana 61 - Heaven, they fabled, thrown by angry Jove Sheer o'er the crystal battlements : from morn To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, A summer's day ; and with the setting sun Dropt from the zenith like a falling star, On Lemnos the JSgean isle : thus they relate, Erring ; for he with this rebellious rout Fell long before ; nor aught avail'd him now To have built in Heaven high towers ; nor did he 'scape By all his engines, but was headlong sent With his industrious crew to build in Hell.
Strana 73 - To what thou hast, and for the air of youth Hopeful and cheerful in thy blood will reign A melancholy damp of cold and dry, To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume The balm of life.
Strana 63 - In hurdled cotes amid the field secure, Leaps o'er the fence with ease into the fold. Or as a thief, bent to unhoard the cash Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors...

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