The Life and Times of Sir Walter Ralegh: With Copious Extracts from His History of the World

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N. Cooke, 1854 - 309页
 

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第31页 - But to us there is but one God, the Father, of whom are all things, and we in him ; and one Lord Jesus Christ, by whom are all things, and we by him.
第305页 - Even such is time, that takes in trust Our youth, our joys, our all we have, And pays us but with earth and dust ; Who, in the dark and silent grave, When we have wandered all our ways, Shuts up the story of our days ; But from this earth, this grave, this dust, My God shall raise me up, I trust ! ELIZABETHAN MISCELLANIES.
第166页 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon. My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
第84页 - With coral clasps and amber studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love.
第168页 - Go, soul, the body's guest, Upon a thankless errand ! Fear not to touch the best, The truth shall be thy warrant Go, since I needs must die, And give the world the lie.
第168页 - Then give them all the lie. Tell zeal it lacks devotion, Tell love it is but lust, Tell time it is but motion. Tell flesh it is but dust; And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lie.
第189页 - I have seen all the works that are done under the sun ; and, behold, all is vanity and vexation of spirit.
第167页 - Travelleth towards the land of heaven ; Over the silver mountains, Where spring the nectar fountains : There will I kiss The bowl of bliss ; And drink mine everlasting fill Upon every milken hill. My soul will be a-dry before ; But after, it will thirst no more.
第169页 - Tell charity of coldness. Tell law it is contention. And as they do reply. So give them still the lie. Tell fortune of her blindness, Tell nature of decay, Tell friendship of unkindness, Tell justice of delay. And if they will reply, Then give them all the lie.
第77页 - I might hear of her once in two or three days, my sorrows were the less, but even now my heart is cast into the depth of all misery. I that was wont to behold her riding like Alexander, hunting like Diana, walking like Venus, the gentle wind blowing her fair hair about her pure cheeks, like a nymph, sometime sitting in the shade bike a goddess, sometime singing like an angel...

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