Remorse: A Tragedy, in Five Acts

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W. Pople, 1813 - 72 páginas

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Página 62 - THE DUNGEON. And this place our forefathers made for man! This is the process of our love and wisdom, To each poor brother who offends against us — Most innocent, perhaps — and what if guilty? Is this the only cure? Merciful God! Each pore and natural outlet...
Página 2 - Remorse is as the heart in which it grows : If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews Of true repentance ; but if proud and gloomy, It is a poison-tree, that pierced to the inmost Weeps only tears of poison.
Página 62 - With other ministrations thou. O nature! 20 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 25 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 34 - Cease thy swift toils ! Since haply thou art one Of that innumerable company Who in broad circle, lovelier than the rainbow, Girdle this round earth in a dizzy motion...
Página 62 - Circled with evil, till his very soul Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deformed By sights of evermore deformity ! With other ministrations thou, 0 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...
Página 26 - Time, as he courses onwards, still unrolls The volume of Concealment. In the Future, As in the optician's glassy cylinder, The indistinguishable blots and colours Of the dim Past collect and shape themselves, Upstarting in their own completed image To scare or to reward.
Página 63 - With other ministrations thou, O 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 62 - Then we call in our pamper'd mountebanks — And this is their best cure! uncomforted And friendless solitude, groaning and tears, And savage faces, at the clanking hour Seen through the steams and vapour of his dungeon, By the lamp's dismal twilight!

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