Literary recreations; or, Scenes from real life

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Whittaker & Company, 1833 - 323 pages

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Page 86 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 0 Solitude ! where are the charms That sages have seen in thy face ? Better dwell in the midst of alarms Than reign in this horrible place.
Page 112 - The hills melted like wax at the presence of the LORD, At the presence of the LORD of the whole earth.
Page 211 - Though thou shouldest bray a fool in a mortar among wheat with a pestle, yet will not his foolishness depart from him.
Page 69 - A messenger of grace to guilty men. Behold the picture ! — Is it like ? — Like whom ? The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, And then skip down again : pronounce a text, Cry, hem ! and, reading -what they never wrote Just fifteen minutes, huddle up their work, And with a well-bred whisper close the scene.
Page 72 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty, thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair; thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 209 - A blank, my lord : She never told her love, But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought ; And, with a green and yellow melancholy, She sat like patience on a monument, Smiling at grief.
Page 205 - Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the Lord, she shall be praised.
Page 14 - To set before your sight your glorious race, That this presaging joy may fire your mind To seek the shores by destiny design'd." — "O father, can it be, that souls sublime Return to visit our terrestrial clime, And that the gen'rous mind, releas'd by death, Can covet lazy limbs and mortal breath?
Page 309 - Farewell ! a long farewell, to all my greatness ! This is the state of man : to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him . The third day comes a frost, a killing frost, And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a-ripening, — nips his root, And then he falls, as I do.
Page 197 - Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat Sighing through all her Works gave signs of woe, That all was lost.

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