Tragedies: To which are Added a Few Sonnets and Verses

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Edward Moxon, 1844 - English poetry - 276 pages

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Page 35 - Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear Of him who thought to die unmourned 'twill fall Like choicest music...
Page 35 - Of cool refreshment, drain'd by fever'd lips, May give a shock of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours. It is a little thing to speak a phrase Of common comfort which by daily use Has almost lost its sense ; yet on the ear Of him who thought to die...
Page 35 - Tis a little thing To give a cup of water ; yet its draught Of cool refreshment, drained by fevered lips, May give a shock of pleasure to the frame More exquisite than when Nectarean juice Renews the life of joy in happiest hours.
Page 168 - The hand that mingled in the meal At midnight drew the felon steel, And gave the host's kind breast to feel Meed for his hospitality...
Page 270 - Hill, however, sympathised with the distress, and even tears of the old chieftain, and gave him a letter to Sir Colin Campbell of Ardkinlas, Sheriff of Argyleshire, requesting him to receive the "lost sheep...
Page 273 - You are to have especial care,' that the old fox and his sons do upon no account escape your hands. You are to secure all the avenues, that no man escape. This you are to put in execution at five...
Page 93 - Prithee no more. Argives ! I have a boon To crave of you ; — whene'er I shall rejoin In death the father from whose heart in...
Page 92 - And learn'd the need of luxury. I grant For thee and thy brave comrades, ample share Of such rich treasure as my stores contain, To grace thy passage to some distant land, Where, if an honest cause engage thy sword, May glorious laurels wreath it ! In our realm We shall not need it longer.
Page 90 - I do ! I do ! ION. If for thy brother's and thy father's sake Thou art content to live, the healer, Time. Will reconcile thee to the lovely things Of this delightful world, — and if another, A happier — no, I cannot bid thee love Another ! — I did think I could have said it, But 'tis in vain. CLEMANTHE. Thou art mine own then still ? ION.
Page 53 - ... Faint-hearted from the reckoning of our span Of mortal days, we pamper the fond wish For long duration in a line of kings : If the rich pageantry of thoughts must fade All unsubstantial as the regal hues Of eve which purpled them, our cunning frailty Must robe a living image with their pomp, And wreath a diadem around its brow, In which our sunny fantasies may live Empearl'd, and gleam, in fatal splendour, far On after ages.

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