A Few Memories

Osgood, McIlvaine, 1896 - 266 pages

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Page 161 - To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell, To slowly trace the forest's shady scene, Where things that own not man's dominion dwell, And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been ; To climb the trackless mountain all unseen, With the wild flock that never needs a fold ; Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean ; This is not solitude ; 'tis but to hold Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unroll'd.
Page 24 - Angels and ministers of grace defend us! Be thou a spirit of health or goblin damn'd, Bring with thee airs from heaven or blasts from hell, Be thy intents wicked or charitable, Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, That I will speak to thee: I'll call thee Hamlet, King, father, royal Dane, O, answer me!
Page 44 - Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Page 177 - As when a painter, poring on a face, Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and colour of a mind and life, Lives for his children, ever at its best And fullest...
Page 220 - What kind of love is that ? Pyg. — A kind of love That I shall run some risk in dealing with. Gal.— And why, Pygmalion ? Pyg. — Such love as thine A man may not receive, except, indeed, From one who is, or is to be, his wife. Gal.— Then I will be thy wife.
Page 245 - Thank God, the time is past for the Press to make or mar a poem, play, or artist. Few original things are well received at first. People must grow accustomed to what is out of the common, before adopting it. Your idea if carried out, as you feel it, will be well received generally, and before long.
Page 172 - This hand would lead thee, listen !* a deep vale Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world; Near a clear lake, margined by fruits of gold And whispering myrtles ; glassing softest skies As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadows, As I would have thy fate! PAULINE. My own dear love ! MELNOTTE. A palace lifting to eternal summer Its marble walls, from out a glossy bower Of coolest foliage musical with birds, Whose songs should syllable thy name!
Page 37 - Hatterick's fatal bullet entered her body, and she came staggering down the stage, her terrible shriek, so wild and piercing, so full of agony and yet of the triumph she had given her life to gain, told the whole story of her love and her revenge.
Page 260 - ... L'insecte vainement cherche à leur échapper , II devient bientôt leur conquête. L'un le saisit par l'aile , un autre par le corps ; Un troisième survient , et le prend par la tête : II ne fallait pas tant d'efforts Pour déchirer la pauvre bête. Oh ! oh ! dit le grillon , je ne suis plus fâché ; II en coûte trop cher pour briller dans le monde. Combien je vais aimer ma retraite profonde ! Pour vivre heureux, vivons caché.
Page 254 - Where be your gibes now ? your gambols ? your songs ? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table in a roar ? Not one now, to mock your own grinning?

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