Emilia Wyndham, Volumen2

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B. Tauchnitz, 1852
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Página 306 - ... clothed in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day, while the laborer is fed with the crumbs which fall from the table of the rich.
Página 306 - O what a glory doth this world put on For him who, with a fervent heart, goes forth Under the bright and glorious sky, and looks On duties well performed, and days well spent ! For him the wind, ay, and the yellow leaves Shall have a voice, and give him eloquent teachings. He shall so hear the solemn hymn, that Death Has lifted up for all, that he shall go To his long resting-place without a tear.
Página 205 - But patience is more oft the exercise Of saints, the trial of their fortitude, Making them each his own deliverer, And victor over all That tyranny or fortune can inflict.
Página 238 - Nature ! Healest thy wandering and distempered child: Thou pourest on him thy soft influences, Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets; Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters ! Till he relent, and can no more endure To be a jarring and a dissonant thing Amid this general dance and minstrelsy; But, bursting into tears, wins back his way, His angry spirit healed and harmonized By the benignant touch of love and beauty.
Página 246 - Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate ; Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labour and to wait.
Página 7 - Good. —The darts of anguish fix not where the seat Of suffering hath been thoroughly fortified By acquiescence in the Will Supreme For Time and for Eternity...
Página 145 - tis she or none, That I love, and love alone. Nature did her so much right As she scorns the help of art; In as many virtues dight As e'er yet embraced a heart: So much good so truly tried, Some for less were deified. Wit she hath, without desire To make known how much she hath; And her anger flames no higher Than may fitly sweeten wrath. Full of pity as may be, Though perhaps not so to me.
Página 1 - Now, if thou would'st, when all have given him over, From Death to Life thou might'st him yet recover.
Página 61 - But jealous souls will not be answered so ; They are not ever jealous for the cause, But jealous for they're jealous. It is a monster Begot upon itself, born on itself.
Página 216 - Alas ! how changed from the fair scene, When birds sang out their mellow lay, And winds were soft, and woods were green, And the song ceased not with the day.

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