Fireside Studies, Volumen1

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Chatto and Windus, 1876
 

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Página 298 - Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touched it...
Página 188 - Shepherds, weep no more, For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor ; So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore Flames in the forehead of the morning sky...
Página 81 - For ever consecrate the day To music and Cecilia ; Music, the greatest good that mortals know, And all of heaven we have below, Music can noble HINTS impart!!!
Página 39 - like a distressed prince who calls in a powerful neighbour to his aid. I was undone by my auxiliary. When I had once called him in, I could not subsist without dependence on him.
Página 8 - The first sense of sorrow I ever knew was upon the death of my father, at which time I was not quite five years of age; but was rather amazed at what all the house meant, than possessed with a real understanding why nobody was willing to play with me. I remember I went into the room where his body lay, and my mother sat weeping alone by it. I had my battledore in my hand, and fell a beating the coffin, and calling Papa; for, I know not how, I had some slight idea that he was locked up there.
Página 84 - Thy favourites grow not up by fortune's sport, Or from the crimes or follies of a court. On the firm basis of desert they rise, From long-tried faith, and friendship's holy ties.
Página 292 - This Figure, that thou here seest put, It was for gentle Shakespeare cut ; Wherein the Graver had a strife With Nature, to out-doo the life: O, could he but have drawne his wit As well in brasse, as he hath hit His face ; the print would then surpasse All that was ever writ in brasse. But, since he cannot, Reader, looke Not on his Picture, but his Booke.
Página 309 - The wheel of fortune guide you, The boy with the bow beside you; Run aye in the way, Till the bird of day, And the luckier lot betide you 1 Capt.
Página 13 - ONLY tell her that I love: Leave the rest to her and Fate: Some kind planet from above May perhaps her pity move: Lovers on their stars must wait. — Only tell her that I love! Why, O why should I despair!
Página 115 - How beautiful is death, when earn'd by virtue ! Who would not be that youth ? what pity is it That we can die but once to serve our country...

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