The Parterre of fiction, poetry, history [&c.]., Volume 3

Front Cover

From inside the book

What people are saying - Write a review

We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.

Contents

Other editions - View all

Common terms and phrases

Popular passages

Page 238 - I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare : — If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair, In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale...
Page 356 - That hangs his head, and a' that ? The coward-slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a' that ! For a' that, and a' that, Our toils obscure, and a' that ; The rank is but the guinea stamp ; The man's the gowd for a
Page 155 - As if increase of appetite had grown By what it fed on; and yet, within a month, Let me not think on't: Frailty, thy name is woman!
Page 237 - Tis my desire to be alone : Ne'er well but when my thoughts and I Do domineer in privacy. No gem, no treasure like to this, 'Tis my delight, my crown, my bliss. All my joys to this are folly : Nought so sweet as melancholy...
Page 247 - THERE is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found, — They softly lie and sweetly sleep Low in the ground.
Page 54 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege Through all the years of this our life, to lead From, joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith that all which we behold Is...
Page 245 - The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead ; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread.
Page 331 - No — he was a man who had a real, simple, and sincere love for the birds of the air, the beasts of the field...
Page 157 - ... as being out of countenance; his beard was very thin: his tongue too large for his mouth, which ever made him speak full in the mouth, and made him drink very uncomely, as if eating his drink, which came out into the cup of each side of his mouth; his skin was as soft as taffeta sarsnet, which felt so, because he never washed his hands, only rubbed his fingers ends slightly with the wet end of a napkin.

Bibliographic information