Guy Mannering

Front Cover
Houghton Mifflin, 1923

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Page 48 - With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and...
Page 129 - The bell strikes one. We take no note of time, But from its loss. To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the, knell of my departed hours : Where are they?
Page 70 - Ride your ways," said the gipsy, " ride your ways, Laird of Ellangowan — ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram ! — This day have ye quenched seven smoking hearths — see if the fire in your ain parlour burn the blyther for that. Ye have riven the thack off seven cottar houses — look if your ain roof-tree stand the faster.
Page 138 - Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God: where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the Lord do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part thee and me.
Page 121 - How often do we find ourselves in society which we have never before met, and yet feel impressed with a mysterious and ill-defined consciousness, that neither the scene, the speakers, nor the subject, are entirely new ; nay, feel as if we could anticipate that part of the conversation which has not yet taken place...
Page 36 - Twist ye, twine ye ! even so Mingle shades of joy and woe, Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife, In the thread of human life. While the mystic twist is spinning, And the infant's life beginning, Dimly seen through twilight bending, Lo, what varied shapes attending ! Passions wild, and Follies vain, Pleasures soon exchanged for pain ; Doubt, and Jealousy, and Fear, In the magic dance appear. Now they wax, and now they dwindle. Whirling with the whirling spindle. Twist ye, twine ye ! even so Mingle...
Page 27 - The intelligible forms of ancient poets, The fair humanities of old religion, The Power, the Beauty, and the Majesty, That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain, Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring, Or chasms and wat'ry depths ; all these have vanished. They live no longer in the faith of reason...
Page 87 - But see, his face is black and full of blood; His eyeballs further out than when he lived, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man: His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling ; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued.
Page 262 - All school-days' friendship, childhood innocence? We, Hermia, like two artificial gods, Have with our needles created both one flower, Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, Both warbling of one song, both in one key; As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, Had been incorporate.
Page 129 - To give it then a tongue Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours : Where are they ? With the years beyond the flood. It is the signal that demands despatch : How much is to be done? My hopes and fears Start up alarm'd, and o'er life's narrow verge Look down — on what ? a fathomless abyss...

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