Bentley's Miscellany, Volume 55 (Google eBook)

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Richard Bentley, 1864
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Page 199 - And when he had thus spoken, he kneeled down, and prayed with them all. And they all wept sore, and fell on Paul's neck, and kissed him, sorrowing most of all for the words which he spake, that they should see his face no more.
Page 196 - O well for the fisherman's boy, That he shouts with his sister at play ! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay ! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a...
Page 514 - I have often said, that this world is a comedy to those who think, a tragedy to those who feel ; and sensibility has not only occasion to suffer for others, but is sure of its own portion too.
Page 193 - Pray, do not mock me : I am a very foolish fond old man, Fourscore and upward ; and, to deal plainly, I fear, I am not in my perfect mind.
Page 381 - Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks: Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
Page 200 - But the Raven still beguiling All my sad soul into smiling, Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in Front of bird and bust and door ; Then upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking Fancy unto fancy, thinking What this ominous bird of yore What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, Gaunt and ominous bird of yore Meant in croaking
Page 199 - As the cloud is consumed and vanisheth away: so he that goeth down to the grave shall come up no more. He shall return no more to his house, neither shall his place know him any more.
Page 308 - He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who fears to put it to the touch, To win or lose it all.
Page 514 - THE play is done ; the curtain drops, Slow falling, to the prompter's bell : A moment yet the actor stops, And looks around, to say farewell. It is an irksome word and task ; And when he's laughed and said his say, He shows, as he removes the mask, A face that's anything but gay.
Page 198 - O World ! O life ! O time ! On whose last steps I climb, Trembling at that where I had stood before, When will return the glory of your prime ? No more oh never more ! Out of the day and night A joy has taken flight ; Fresh Spring, and Summer, and Winter hoar, Move my faint heart with grief, but with delight No more oh never more!

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