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Abbey admiration Alice Lemington allow Anna asked Augustus baron baroness beauty believe better bright brow called captain changed CHAPTER child Clara continued cried dear death dream Eldrido entered existence expression eyes face fair fame fancied father fear feeling felt follow gaze gentle girl give graceful Grey hand happiness head hear heard heart hope human husband idea imagined Italy knew Lady Anne Lady Cunnington leave length light listen live look Lord Cunnington Lord Sevridge Mary mind Miss mother nature never nington once opinion passion perhaps persons pleasure political politician poor pray present pride received remember replied rich seemed slave smile sometimes soon sorrow soul speak spirit suffer sure talk tears tell thought told turned voice weak whilst wish woman wonder young youth
Page 248 - Happy the man, and happy he alone, He, who can call to-day his own : He who, secure within, can say, To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived today. Be fair or foul, or rain or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine. Not Heaven itself upon the past has power ; But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.
Page 190 - EVEN such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust!
Page 99 - Nor the dejected haviour of the visage, Together with all forms, moods, shapes of grief, That can denote me truly : these indeed seem, For they are actions that a man might play : But I have that within which passeth show ; These but the trappings and the suits of woe.
Page 42 - Freedom has a thousand charms to show, That slaves, howe'er contented, never know. The mind attains beneath her happy reign The growth that nature meant she should attain. The varied fields of science, ever new...
Page 128 - Though the day of my destiny's over, And the star of my fate hath declined, Thy soft heart refused to discover The faults which so many could find ; Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted, It shrunk not to share it with me, And the love which my spirit hath painted It never hath found but in thee.
Page 72 - Where grows ? — where grows it not ? If vain our toil, We ought to blame the culture, not the soil...
Page 146 - Have I not had to wrestle with my lot ? Have I not suffered things to be forgiven? Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven, Hopes sapped, name blighted, Life's life lied away ? And only not to desperation driven, Because not altogether of such clay As rots into the souls of those whom I survey.
Page 297 - Time hath , my lord , a wallet at his back, Wherein he puts alms for oblivion ; A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: Those scraps are good deeds past ; which are devour'd As fast as they are made , forgot as soon As done.
Page 276 - OH happiness ! our being's end and aim ! Good, pleasure, ease, content ? whate'er thy name : That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die, Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, O'er-look'd, seen double, by the fool, and wise.