De Cressy: A Tale

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Tauchnitz, 1857 - 306页
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第184页 - Tho' they may gang a kennin wrang, To step aside is human : One point must still be greatly dark, The moving Why they do it ; And just as lamely can ye mark, How far perhaps they rue it. Who made the heart, 'tis He alone Decidedly can try us, He knows each chord its various tone, Each spring its various bias : Then at the balance let's be mute, We never can adjust it ; What's done we partly may compute, But know not what's resisted.
第146页 - With aching hands and bleeding feet We dig and heap, lay stone on stone ; We bear the burden and the heat Of the long day, and wish 'twere done. Not till the hours of light return, All we have built do we discern.
第117页 - Some murmur, when their sky is clear And wholly bright to view, If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue. And some with thankful love are filled, If but one streak of light, One ray of God's good mercy gild The darkness of their night.
第146页 - WE cannot kindle when we will The fire which in the heart resides; The spirit bloweth and is still, In mystery our soul abides. But tasks in hours of insight will'd Can be through hours of gloom fulfill'd.
第242页 - Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm, To bless the doors from nightly harm...
第44页 - What years, i' faith ? Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; let still the woman take An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are.
第135页 - Ay, now am I in Arden ; the more fool I : when I was at home, I was in a better place : but travellers must be content.
第194页 - Whatever crazy sorrow saith, No life that breathes with human breath Has ever truly long'd for death. " Tis life, whereof our nerves are scant, Oh life, not death, for which we pant ; More life, and fuller, that I want.
第212页 - Meanwhile, Opinion gilds with varying rays Those painted clouds that beautify our days; Each want of happiness by Hope supplied, And each vacuity of s-ense by Pride...
第260页 - Save, oh, save. From doubt, where all is double: Where wise men are not strong: Where comfort turns to trouble: Where just men suffer wrong: Where sorrow treads on joy: Where sweet things soonest cloy: Where faiths are built on dust: Where Love is half mistrust...

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