The Duchess de la Valličre: A Play in Five Acts

Voorkant
A. W. Galignani, 1837 - 96 pagina's
 

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Pagina 94 - A small green isle, it seem'd no more, Scarce broader than my dungeon floor, But in it there were three tall trees, And o'er it blew the mountain breeze, And by it there were waters flowing, And on it there were young flowers growing, Of gentle breath and hue.
Pagina 125 - Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.
Pagina 42 - LIFE. I MADE a posy, while the day ran by : Here will I smell my remnant out, and tie My life within this band.
Pagina 91 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains.
Pagina 142 - When all is done, (he concludes,) human life is at the greatest and the best but like a froward child, that must be played with and humoured a little to keep it quiet, till it falls asleep, and then the care is over.
Pagina 245 - To reason, and on reason build resolve (That column of true majesty in man), Assist me : I will thank you in the grave ; The grave, your kingdom. There this frame shall fall A victim sacred to your dreary shrine. But what are ye? THOU, who didst put to flight Primeval Silence, when the morning...
Pagina 242 - Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke, I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright, It is the knell of my departed hours. Where are they ? with the years beyond the flood. It is the signal that demands despatch. How much is to be done! My hopes and fears Start up alarmed, and o'er life's narrow verge Look down — on what ? a fathomless abyss !
Pagina 13 - Precipitously steep; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more. ' He is an evening reveller, who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes, Starts into voice a moment, then is still.
Pagina 240 - This world a hunting is, The prey poor man, the Nimrod fierce is Death ; His speedy greyhounds are Lust, sickness, envy, care, Strife that ne'er falls amiss, With all those ills which haunt us while we breathe. Now, if by chance we fly Of these the eager chase, Old age with stealing pace Casts up his nets, and there we panting die.
Pagina 182 - And therefore it was most aptly said by one of Plato's school, That the sense of man carrieth a resemblance with the sun, which (as we see) openeth and revealeth all the terrestrial globe ; but then again it obscureth and concealeth the stars and celestial globe : so doth the sense discover natural things, but it darkeneth and shutteth up divine.

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