Manuella, the executioner's daughter [by E. Smallwood].


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Page 261 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light!
Page 267 - And equal transport, free as Nature live, Disdaining fear. What is the world to them, Its pomp, its pleasure, and its nonsense all! Who in each other clasp whatever fair High fancy forms, and lavish hearts can wish; Something than beauty dearer, should they look Or on the mind, or mind-illumin'd face — Truth, goodness, honour, harmony, and love, The richest bounty of indulgent Heaven.
Page 74 - tis no matter; honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on? how then? Can honour set to a leg? no: or an arm? no: or take away the grief of a wound? no. Honour hath no skill in surgery, then? no. What is honour? a word. What is in that word honour? what is that honour? air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? he that died o
Page 251 - Th' unpractis'd dervise, or sequester'd faquir. Know'st thou not yet, when Love invades the Soul, That all her faculties receive his chains? That reason gives her sceptre to his hand, Or only struggles to be more enslav'd?
Page 74 - tis no matter; Honour pricks me on. Yea, but how if honour prick me off when I come on ? how then ? Can honour set to a leg? No. Or an arm? No. Or take away the grief of a wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery then ? No. What is honour? A word. What is in that word, honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning ! — Who hath it? He that died o
Page 128 - Fernando, by the grace of God, King of Castile, Leon, Aragon, the two Sicilies, Jerusalem, Navarre, Granada, Toledo, Valencia, Galicia...
Page 48 - And swept away distinction ; peasants trod Upon the necks of nobles ; low were laid The reverend crosier and the holy mitre, And desolation covered all the land...
Page 207 - Age sits with decent grace upon his visage, And worthily becomes his silver locks; He wears the marks of many years well spent, Of virtue, truth well tried, and wise experience; A friend like this would suit my sorrows well.
Page 86 - Sgombra, o gentil, dall'ansia mente i terrestri ardori; leva all'Eterno un candido pensier d'offerta, e muori: fuor della vita è il termine del lungo tuo martir. Tal della mesta, immobile era quaggiuso il fato: sempre un obblio di chiedere che le saria negato; e al Dio de' santi ascendere, santa del suo patir.
Page 127 - The Spanish maid is no coquette, Nor joys to see a lover tremble ; And if she love, or if she hate, Alike she knows not to dissemble. Her heart can ne'er be bought or sold — Howe'er it beats, it beats sincerely ; And, though it will not bend to gold, 'Twill love you long, and love you dearly.

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