The fatalists; or, Records of 1814 and 1815, Volumes 4-5

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Page 27 - Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need ; The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted : they have torn me, and I bleed : I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.
Page 274 - Implored your highness' pardon and set forth A deep repentance : nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it ; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he owed* As 'twere a careless trifle.
Page 15 - I am one, my liege, Whom the vile blows and buffets of the world Have so incensed that I am reckless what I do to spite the world.
Page 73 - Oh grief, beyond all other griefs, when fate First leaves the young heart lone and desolate In the wide world, without that only tie For which it loved to live or feared to die ; — Lorn as the hung-up lute, that ne'er hath spoken Since the sad day its master-chord was broken...
Page 300 - All Sorts of Lovers, or Indiscretion, Truth, and Perfidy, by Henry Summerset, Author of the Mad Man of the Mountains, &c. 3 vols 0 15...
Page 168 - When fortune changed, and love fled far, And hatred's shafts flew thick and fast, Thou wert the solitary star Which rose and set not to the last.
Page 168 - Now led against thee ; and, let conquerors boast Their fields of fame, he who in virtue arms A young, warm spirit against beauty's charms, Who feels her brightness, yet defies her thrall, Is the best, bravest conqueror of them all.
Page 77 - What female vanity might fear to know : Some merit's mine, to dare to be sincere : But greater your's, sincerity to bear. Hard is the fortune that your sex attends; Women, like princes, find few real friends: All who approach them their own ends pursue ; Lovers and ministers are seldom true.
Page 197 - tis idle rage : Oh ! mark it not ; but let thy steady virtue Be constant to its temper. Save his life, And save Arpasia from the sport of talkers. Think, how the busy, meddling world will toss Thy mighty name about, in scurril mirth ; Shall brand thy vengeance, as a foul design, And make such monstrous legends of our lives, As late posterity shall blush in reading.

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