Love, Svazek 2

Přední strana obálky
Carey, Lea and Blanchard, 1838
 

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Obsah

I
3
II
13
III
25
IV
36
V
47
VI
57
VII
66
VIII
73
XIII
109
XIV
111
XV
119
XVI
123
XVII
130
XVIII
140
XIX
150
XX
160

IX
80
X
89
XI
93
XII
101
XXI
169
XXII
180
XXIII
186
XXIV
193

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Oblíbené pasáže

Strana 189 - No longer mourn for me when I am dead Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : Nay if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it : for I love you so, That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot, If thinking on me then should make you woe.
Strana 189 - Give warning to the world that I am fled From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell : Nay, if you read this line, remember not The hand that writ it ; for I love you so That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot If thinking on me then should make you woe. O, if...
Strana 140 - All thy garments smell of myrrh, and aloes, and cassia, out of the ivory palaces, whereby they have made thee glad.
Strana 47 - Neither was it mine adversary that did magnify himself against me; for then peradventure I would have hid myself from him : 14 But it was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend.
Strana 80 - Time ! the beautifier of the dead, Adorner of the ruin, comforter And only healer when the heart hath bled — Time ! the corrector where our judgments err, The test of truth, love, — sole philosopher, For all beside are sophists, from thy thrift, Which never loses though it doth defer — Time, the avenger ! unto thee I lift My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift ; CXXXI.
Strana 1 - It is to be all made of fantasy, All made of passion, and all made of wishes; All adoration, duty, and observance, All humbleness, all patience and impatience, All purity, all trial, all observance; And so am I for Phebe.
Strana 47 - For it is not an open enemy that hath done me this dishonour ; for then I could have borne it...
Strana 89 - To wear it? who can curiously behold The smoothness and the sheen of beauty's cheek, Nor feel the heart can never all grow old? Who can contemplate fame through clouds, unfold The star which rises o'er her steep, nor climb? Harold, once more within the vortex, roll'd On with the giddy circle, chasing time, Yet with a nobler aim than in his youth's fond prime.
Strana 66 - Our dying friends come o'er us like a cloud, To damp our brainless ardours, and abate That glare of life which often blinds the wise. Our dying friends are pioneers, to smooth Our rugged pass to death ; to break those bars Of terror and abhorrence Nature throws Cross our obstructed way, and thus to make Welcome, as safe, our port from every storm.
Strana 93 - What man so wise, what earthly wit so ware, As to descry the crafty cunning traine, By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire, And cast her colours dyed deepe in graine, To seeme like Truth, whose shape she well can faine.

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