Tales of Fancy, Band 1

H. Colburn, 1816 - 400 Seiten

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Seite 57 - How beautiful is night ! A dewy freshness fills the silent air, No mist obscures, nor cloud, nor speck, nor stain, Breaks the serene of heaven : In full-orbed glory yonder moon divine Rolls through the dark blue depths.
Seite 311 - That they are not a pipe for fortune's finger To sound what stop she please. Give me that man That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, As I do thee.
Seite 277 - But Och ! mankind are unco weak, An' little to be trusted ; If self the wavering balance shake, It's rarely right adjusted ! Yet they wha fa...
Seite 42 - To soothe awhile the tortured bosom's pain, Of sorrow's rankling shaft to cure the wound, And bring life's first delusions once again, Twere surely met in thee! — thy prospect fair, Thy sounds of harmony, thy balmy air, Have power to cure all sadness — but despair.
Seite 214 - When a friend is carried to his grave, we at once find excuses for every weakness, and palliations of every fault; we recollect a thousand endearments which before glided off our minds without impression, a thousand favours unrepaid, a thousand duties unperformed, and wish, vainly wish for his return, not so much that we may receive, as that we may bestow happiness, and recompense that kindness which before we never understood.
Seite 3 - ... wild waters in this roar, allay them. The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out.
Seite 307 - There was not, on that day, a speck to stain The azure heaven ; the blessed Sun, alone, In unapproachable divinity, Careered, rejoicing in his fields of light. How beautiful, beneath the bright blue sky, The billows...
Seite 128 - Is it not now the hour, The holy hour, when to the cloudless height Of yon starr'd concave, climbs the full-orb'd moon, And to this nether world, in solemn stillness.
Seite 22 - So amply, and with hands so liberal, Thou hast provided all things : But with me I see not who partakes. In solitude What happiness, who can enjoy alone? Or all enjoying, what contentment find?
Seite 1 - ... tribunali, in frotta di testimon, di scritti e di postille, senza giurare o segno altro più espresso, basti una volta che s'abbia promesso.

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