Manners: A Novel, Volume 2

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W.B. Gilley, 1818

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Page 176 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble...
Page 36 - Into this wild abyss, The womb of nature, and perhaps her grave,* Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire, But all these in their pregnant causes mixed Confusedly, and which thus must ever fight, Unless the almighty Maker them ordain His dark materials to create more worlds...
Page 199 - Not to a rage : patience and sorrow strove Who should express her goodliest. You have seen Sunshine and rain at once...
Page 191 - Some feelings are to mortal* given, With less of earth in them than heaven ; And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's check, Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head ! An \ as the Douglas to his breast His darling Ellen closely press'd.
Page 96 - Pale in the earth is she, the softly-blushing fair of my love ! But sit thou on the heath, O bard ! and let us hear thy voice. It is pleasant as the gale of spring, that sighs on the hunter's ear ; when he awakens from dreams of joy, and has heard the music of the spirits of the hill ! " FIN GAL: AN ANCIENT EPIC POEM.
Page 57 - Art thou a MOURNER ? — Hast thou known The joy of innocent delights, Endearing days for ever flown, And tranquil nights?
Page 130 - Mansion, frowning thro' the trees, Whose hollow turret wooes the whistling breeze. That casement, arch'd with ivy's brownest shade, First to these eyes the light of heav'n convey'd. The mouldering gateway strews the grass-grown court, Once the calm scene of many a simple sport; When nature pleas'd, for life itself was new, And the heart promis'd what the fancy drew. See, thro' the fractur'd pediment reveal'd, Where moss inlays the rudely sculptur'd shield, The martin's old, hereditary nest.
Page 19 - How happy could I be with either, Were t'other dear Charmer away!
Page 67 - When wilt thou rise in thy beauty, first of Erin's maids? Thy sleep is long in the tomb, and the morning distant far. The sun shall not come to thy bed, and say, 'Awake Dar-thula! awake, thou first of women ! the wind of spring is abroad. The flowers shake their heads on the green hills, the woods wave their growing leaves.
Page 33 - Why did not I pass away in secret, like the flower of the rock that lifts its fair head unseen, and strews its withered leaves on the blast ? — Ossian.

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