The Scottish Chieftains; Or, The Perils of Love and War

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George Virtue, 1831 - 882页
 

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第58页 - If but a fleeting cloud obscure the sky; If but a beam of sober Reason play, Lo, Fancy's fairy frostwork melts away!
第230页 - While every bit I touch turns in digestion To gall, as bitter as Penthea's curse. Put me to any penance for my tyranny ; And I will call thee merciful.
第269页 - Glories Of human greatness are but pleasing dreams, And shadows soon decaying. On the stage Of my mortality, my youth hath acted Some scenes of vanity, drawn out at length By varied pleasures, sweetened in the mixture, But tragical in issue. Beauty, pomp, With every sensuality our giddiness Doth frame an idol, are unconstant friends, When any troubled passion makes us halt On the unguarded castle of the mind.
第331页 - They are hard upon us, whatsoe'er they be ; Shadow yourself behind this brake of fern, We'll get into the wood, and let them pass.
第566页 - ... gold-fring'd cloud Grew dark and darker, and the Elysian tints Evanish'd swift ; the clear, bright azure chang'd To blackness, and with twilight came the shriek Of the pursuing winds. Anon on high, Seen dimly through the shadowy eve, the Chief Threw out the wary signal, and they paus'd Awhile upon the deep.* Again they gave Their sails to the fresh gale — again the surge Swept foaming by, and every daring prow Pointed to England ; — England ! that should greet With her green hills, and long-lost...
第710页 - You know not what you've done ; my life can give you But little helps, and my death lesser hopes ; And hitherto your own means has but made shift To keep you single, and that hardly too : What ableness have you to do her right then In maintenance fitting her birth and virtues...
第160页 - My parents' cheerful dwelling-place To wander all alone ? And what could make me braid my hair, And study to improve The form that he had deign'd to praise ? — What could it be— but love? Oh ! little knew I of the world, And less of man's career; I thought each smile was kindly meant, Each word of praise sincere. His sweet voice spoke of endless love — I listen'd and believed, And little dreamt how oft before That sweet voice had deceived.
第523页 - Macb. Hang out our banners on the outer *" walls; The cry is still,- They come. ^Our castle's strength Will laugh a siege to scorn : here let them lie, Till famine, and the ague, eat them up : Were they not...
第15页 - As far i' the front as e'er Plantagenet Shewed his black crest. LE BEGUE. And yet the old adage Hangs cruelty and cowardice together. ONIS. The man that coined the phrase had known no Pedro. The old ancestral sense of dignity Exalts our excellence if we be good, And even if we be vicious, that high pride Is not more inborn than inalienable ; At least 'tis so with Pedro.
第566页 - In music, for the winds that hurry 'd by So fierce and swift, but heralded the way To the lov'd island-strand. The jaws of death Were round them, and they knew it not, until Chilling the life-blood of the bravest, burst The everlasting cry of waves and rocks From stern Cornubia's isles. Alas, to them — The lost, there blazed no friendly Pharos' fire, No star gleam'd from the heav'n.

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