Eleanor: Or Life Without Love

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J. French, 1850 - 202 pages

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Page 34 - But Och ! mankind are unco weak, An' little to be trusted ; If self the wavering balance shake, It's rarely right adjusted ! Yet they wha fa...
Page 108 - Tis she ! — but why that bleeding bosom gored ? Why dimly gleams the visionary sword ? Oh, ever beauteous, ever friendly ! tell, Is it, in heaven, a crime to love too well ? To bear too tender or too firm a heart, To act a lover's or a Roman's part ? Is there no bright reversion in the sky For those who greatly think or bravely die?
Page 121 - We rest. — A dream has power to poison sleep ; We rise. — One wandering thought pollutes the day ; We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep; Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away : It is the same! — For, be it joy or sorrow, The path of its departure still is free : Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow ; Nought may endure but Mutability.
Page 44 - Then from within a voice exclaims " Aspire !" Phantoms, that upward point, before him pass, As in the Cave athwart the Wizard's glass ; They, that on Youth a grace, a lustre shed, Of every nge — the living and the dead ! Thou.
Page 74 - O'er her fair face what wild emotions play ! • What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend ! Soon shall they fly, glad harbingers of day, And settled sunshine on her soul descend ! Ah soon, thine own confest, ecstatic thought! That hand shall strew thy summer-path with flowers ; And those blue eyes, with mildest lustre fraught, Gild the calm current of domestic hours ! THE ALPS AT DAY-BREAK.
Page 190 - Yet hope not life from grief or danger free, Nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee...
Page 65 - HENCE, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings And the night-raven sings ; There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Page 127 - That earth has seen, or fancy can devise, Thine altar, sacred Liberty, should stand, Built by no mercenary vulgar hand With fragrant turf, and flowers as wild and fair As ever dressed a bank, or scented summer air.
Page 8 - There is a something elevating, but at the same time, a something terrific in seeing one's thoughts spread so far, and among so many people ; it is indeed, almost a fearful thing to belong to so many. The noble and the good in us becomes a blessing ; but the bad, one's errors, shoot forth also, and involuntarily the thought forces itself from us : God ! let me never write down a word of which I shall not be able to give an account to thee. A peculiar feeling, a mixture of joy and anxiety, fills my...
Page 83 - Where glorious mansions are prepared above, The seats of music, and the seats of love, Thence I descend, and Piety my name, To warm thy bosom with celestial flame, To teach thee praises mix'd with humble prayers, And tune thy soul to sing seraphic airs. Be thou my bard.

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