Bentley's Miscellany, Том 43

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Richard Bentley, 1858

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Страница 610 - A rest for weary pilgrims found, " They softly lie, and sweetly sleep
Страница 79 - And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad Made to his mistress
Страница 523 - WE watched her breathing through the night, Her breathing soft and low, As in her breast the wave of life Kept heaving to and fro. So silently we seemed to speak, So slowly moved about, As we had lent her half our powers To eke her living out. Our very hopes belied our fears, Our fears our hopes belied — We thought her dying when she slept, And sleeping when she died. For when the morn came dim and sad, And chill with early showers, Her quiet eyelids closed — she had Another morn than ours.
Страница 524 - For me, my heart that erst did go Most like a tired child at a show, That sees through tears the mummers leap, Would now its wearied vision close, Would childlike on His love repose Who giveth His beloved sleep. And friends, dear friends, when it shall be That this low breath is gone from me, And round my bier ye come to weep, Let one most loving of you all, Say, " Not a tear must o'er her fall ! He giveth His beloved sleep.
Страница 295 - The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave ; The deep damp vault, the darkness, and the worm; These are the bugbears of a winter's eve, T 3 The terrors of the living, not the dead.
Страница 402 - Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant; More life, and fuller, that I want.
Страница 521 - Thy best of rest is sleep, And that thou oft provok'st, yet grossly fear'st Thy death — which is no more. Thou art not thyself; For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not ; For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get, And what thou hast, forget'st. Thou art not certain ; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects, After the moon.
Страница 294 - There is no terror, brother Toby, in its looks, but what it borrows from groans and convulsions — and the blowing of noses and the wiping away of tears with the bottoms of curtains, in a dying man's room.
Страница 225 - He was not a man of many words, and rarely begun the discourse, or made the first entrance upon any business that was assumed; but a very weighty speaker, and after he had heard a full debate, and observed how the house was like to be inclined, took up the argument, and shortly, and clearly, and craftily, so stated it, that he commonly conducted it to the conclusion he desired...
Страница 611 - Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.

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