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affection Anna answer appeared arrived asked beautiful become believe better called child circumstances daughter dear dearest death door endeavoured entered existence expression eyes fear feeling felt followed Frederick give gone hand happy hear heard heart honour hope hour husband interest kind knew Lady Herbert latter least leave length less light live looked Lord de Montmorenci Lord Herbert Mabel mamma manner marry means mind Miss Clermont Miss Herbert moment mother Mowbray nature never night observed once passed passion past perhaps person pleasure poor present remain remember replied rest Sarah scene seemed Sir Charles Lennard Sir Edward society sorrow speak spirit spoke suffer sure taken tell thing thought true truth turned voice walk whole wife wish woman young
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.