The confessor, Volume 2

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Page 213 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness : And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Page 117 - There was a sound of revelry by night, And Belgium's capital had gathered then Her Beauty and her Chivalry, and bright The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men...
Page 177 - And yet is most pretended: in a place Less warranted than this, or less secure, I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial To my proportioned strength!
Page 38 - He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To gain or lose it all.
Page 167 - II, in answer to his suggestion of a Member for the Borough of Appleby. " I have been bullied by an Usurper ; I have been ill treated by a Court ; but I won't be dictated to by a Subject; your Man sha'n't stand. — Anne Countess of Dorset, Pembroke, and Montgomery.
Page 208 - I can love thee no more. The golden laws of love shall be Upon this pillar hung, — A simple heart, a single eye, A true and constant tongue. Let no man for more love pretend Than he has hearts in store ; True love begun shall never end : Love one and love no more. Then shall thy heart be set by mine, But in far different case; For mine was true, so was not thine, But look't like Janus
Page 209 - ll never love thee more. Or if by fraud, or by consent, Thy heart to ruine come, I 'll sound no trumpet as I wont, Nor march by tuck of drum ; But hold my arms, like ensigns, up, Thy falsehood to deplore, And bitterly will sigh and weep, And never love thee more.
Page 177 - These thoughts may startle well, but not astound The virtuous mind, that ever walks attended By a strong siding champion, Conscience.
Page 287 - The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, good and ill together: our virtues would be proud if our faults whipped them not ; and our crimes would despair if they were not cherished by our virtues.
Page 209 - I'll do with thee as Nero did When Rome was set on fire ; Not only all Relief forbid, But to a Hill retire ; And scorn to shed a Tear to see Thy Spirit grown so poor : But smiling, sing until I die...

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