What people are saying - Write a review
We haven't found any reviews in the usual places.
Other editions - View all
Ball beauty beneath bliss blue breast breath bright brow charming cheek cold comes dance dark dear death deep dream earth eyes face fair fall fancy father fear feel flowers fond fool forget friends gaze give glance gone grace grave hair half Hall hand hath head hear heart Heaven hope hour King Lady laugh Laura learned leave light lips live look Lord lover meet Miss Muse never night o'er pain pale passed play poor pride rose round scene Second shine sigh silent sing sleep smile song soul sound speak stars studied sweet talk tear tell thee thine thing thou thought to-day turns voice wandering wave weep whispered Whole young youth
Page 138 - Up rose the Reverend Doctor Brown, Up rose the Doctor's "winsome marrow;" The lady laid her knitting down, Her husband clasped his ponderous Barrow : Whate'er the stranger's caste or creed, Pundit or Papist, saint or sinner, He found a stable for his steed, And welcome for himself, and dinner.
Page 138 - Vicar. His talk was like a stream which runs With rapid change from rocks to roses; It slipped from politics to puns; It passed from Mahomet to Moses; Beginning with the laws which keep The planets in their radiant courses, And ending with some precept deep For dressing eels or shoeing horses.
Page 140 - And he was kind, and loved to sit In the low hut or garnished cottage, And praise the farmer's homely wit, And share the widow's homelier pottage: At his approach complaint grew mild; And when his hand unbarred the shutter, The clammy lips of fever smiled The welcome which they could not utter.
Page 140 - Alack, the change! In vain I look For haunts in which my boyhood trifled; The level lawn, the trickling brook, The trees I climbed, the beds I rifled. The church is larger than before, You reach it by a carriage entry: It holds three hundred people more, And pews are fitted up for gentry.
Page 221 - Twelve years ago I was a boy, A happy boy, at Drury's. Twelve years ago ! — how many a thought Of faded pains and pleasures Those whispered syllables have brought From memory's hoarded treasures ! The fields, the farms, the...
Page 167 - I think the Devil not so black As many people make him. I think that Love is like a play, Where tears and smiles are blended, Or like a faithless April day, Whose shine with shower is ended : Like Colnbrook pavement, rather rough, Like trade, exposed to losses, And like a Highland plaid, — all stuff, And very full of crosses.
Page 96 - Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Page 388 - He vowed a vow, that noble knight, Before he went to table, To make his only sport the fight, His only couch the stable. Till he had drasiged, as he was bid, Five score of Turks to Cadiz; — And this that gallant Spaniard did, For me and for the ladies.
Page 194 - Remember the thrilling romances We read on the bank in the glen; Remember the suitors our fancies Would picture for both of us then. They wore the red cross on their shoulder...
Page 171 - They will part in Twenty-Nine. And oh! I shall find how, day by day, All thoughts and things look older; How the laugh of Pleasure grows less gay, And the heart of Friendship colder; But still I shall be what I have been, Sworn foe to Lady Reason, And seldom troubled with the spleen, And fond of talking treason ; I shall buckle my...