Craven Derby; or, The lordship by tenure, by the author of 'Crockford's'.

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Strana 49 - In the most high and palmy state of Rome, A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets...
Strana 100 - The quality of mercy is not strained; It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath ; it is twice blessed ; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes...
Strana 2 - Hear him but reason in divinity And, all-admiring, with an inward wish, You would desire the King were made a prelate. Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, You would say it hath been all in all his study. List his discourse of war, and you shall hear A fearful battle rendered you in music. Turn him to any cause of policy, The Gordian knot of it he will unloose Familiar as his garter...
Strana 72 - O MEMORY ! thou fond deceiver, Still importunate and vain, To former joys recurring ever, And turning all the past to pain : Thou, like the world, th...
Strana xiii - Oft in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Fond Memory brings the light Of other days around me : The smiles, the tears Of boyhood's years, The words of love then spoken ; The eyes that shone, Now dimm'd and gone, The cheerful hearts now broken ! Thus in the stilly night Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad Memory brings the light Of other days around me.
Strana 101 - You have given him dominion over the works of your hands; you have put all things under his feet, all sheep and oxen, and also the beasts of the field, the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea, whatever passes along the paths of the sea.
Strana 149 - Altho' his son has found a nobler father. Eventful day! how hast thou chang'd my state! Once on the cold, and winter shaded side Of a bleak hill, mischance had rooted me, Never to thrive, child of another soil : Transplanted now to the gay sunny vale, Like the green thorn of May my fortune flowers.
Strana 88 - That it is jealousy's peculiar nature To swell small things to great ; nay, out of nought To conjure much, and then to lose its reason Amid the hideous phantoms it has form'd. Alon. Had I ten thousand lives, I'd give them all To be deceived. I fear 'tis doomsday with me.
Strana 53 - That light we see is burning in my hall ; how far that little candle throws its beams, so shines a good deed in a naughty world...
Strana 100 - But, look, the morn in russet mantle clad, Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill.

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