« VorigeDoorgaan »
Locksley Hall. He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its
novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his
Like a dog, he hunts in dreams.
With a little hoard of maxims preaching down a daugh
But the jingling of the guinea helps the hurt that Honor
Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose
runs, And the thoughts of men are widened with the process
of the suns.
I will take some savage woman, she shall rear my dusky
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
I the heir of all the ages, in the foremost files of time.
Let the gre
world spin forever down the ringing grooves of change.
And topples round the dreary west
Fatima. St. 3.
The Princess. Canto iv. Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn fields, And thinking of the days that are no more.
Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret ; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.
Sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet;
Myriads of rivulets hurrying through the lawn,
Happy he With such a mother! faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall, He shall not blind his soul with clay.
Lady Clara Vere de Vere. From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife
Smile at the claims of long descent.
Howe'er it be, it seems to me,
'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets,
And simple faith than Norman blood.
Recollections of the Arabian Nights.
Of good Haroun Alraschid.
EDWARD BULWER LYTTON.
Richelieu. Act ii. Sc. 2. Beneath the rule of men entirely great The pen is mightier than the sword.
Philip Van Artevelde.
Part i. Act i. Sc. 5.
Act i. Sc. v.
Act i. Sc. v.
We figure to ourselves
Act i. Sc. 7.
away Wakens the slumbering ages.
PHILLIP JAMES BAILEY.
Festus. We live in deeds, not years ; in thoughts, not breaths ; In feelings, not in figures on a dial. We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.
THOMAS K. HERVEY.
The Devil's Progress.
The tomb of him who would have made
The world too glad and free.
He stood beside a cottage lone,
And listened to a lute, One summer's eve, when the breeze was gone,
And the nightingale was mute!
Like ships, that sailed for sunny isles,
But never came to shore !
Her suffering ended with the day,
Yet lived she at its close,
In statue-like repose!
But when the sun, in all his state,
Illumed the eastern skies,
And walked in Paradise.