The wanderings of a goldfinch; or, Characteristic sketches in the nineteenth century

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Printed by W. Clowes ... for Messrs. Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Co.; T. Egerton ... and E. Lloyd, 1816 - 355 pages
 

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Page 120 - Full little knowest thou, that hast not tried, What hell it is in suing long to bide: To lose good days, that might be better spent; To waste long nights in pensive discontent; To speed to-day, to be put back to-morrow; To feed on hope, to pine with fear and sorrow; To have thy prince's grace, yet want her peers...
Page 316 - Ten of them were sheathed in steel, With belted sword, and spur on heel : They quitted not their harness bright, Neither by day, nor yet by night...
Page 349 - With aching temples on thy hand reclined, Muse on the last farewell I leave behind, Breathe a deep sigh to winds that murmur low, And think on all my love, and all my woe...
Page 282 - Ne'er tell me of glories serenely adorning The close of our day, the calm eve of our night ; Give me back, give me back the wild freshness of morning, Her clouds and her tears are worth evening's best light.
Page 348 - Mark me, Wilford. I know the value of the orphan's tear, The poor man's prayer, respect from the respected ; I feel, to merit these, and to obtain them, Is to taste here below, that thrilling cordial, Which the remunerating angel draws From the eternal fountain of delight, To pour on blessed souls that enter heaven. I feel this — I ! How must my nature, then, Revolt at him who seeks to stain his hand In human blood ? And yet, it seems, this day I sought your life.
Page 42 - Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray ; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.
Page 122 - It is not (replied our philosopher) because they treat, as you call it, about love, but because they treat of nothing, that they are despicable : we must not ridicule a passion which he who never felt never was happy, and he who laughs at never deserves to feel — a passion which has caused the change of empires, and the loss of worlds — a passion which has inspired heroism and subdued avarice.
Page 118 - But, in short, Sir,' continued he, — ' I speak to you because you look like one that can understand me — there is nothing about a woman's person merely, were she formed like the Venus de Medicis, that can constitute a fine woman.
Page 32 - Big — bright — and fast, unknown to her they fell ; But still her lips refused to send — " Farewell !" For in that word — that fatal word — howe'er We promise — hope — believe — there breathes despair.
Page 159 - Through mere good fortune, took a different course. The flock grew calm again, and I, the road Following, that led me to my own abode, Much...

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