The remains of Henry Kirke White, of Nottingham, late of St. John's college, Cambridge: with an account of his life, Volume 1 (Google eBook)

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Printed for Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown, 1823
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Page lii - Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise (That last infirmity of noble mind) To scorn delights and live laborious days; But the fair guerdon when we hope to find, And think to burst out into sudden blaze, Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, And slits the thin-spun life. 'But not the praise...
Page xliii - Oh, what is Beauty's power ? It flourishes and dies; Will the cold earth its silence break, To tell how soft how smooth a cheek Beneath its surface lies ? Mute, mute is all O'er Beauty's fall ; Her praise resounds no more when mantled in her pall.
Page xxiv - Come, thou shalt form my nosegay now, And I will bind thee round my brow ; And as I twine the mournful wreath, I'll weave a melancholy song: And sweet the strain shall be and long, The melody of death.
Page 257 - O put thy trust in God : for I will yet thank him, which is the help of my countenance, and my God.
Page xliv - Then since this world is vain, And volatile, and fleet, Why should I lay up earthly joys, Where rust corrupts, and moth destroys, And cares and sorrows eat ? Why fly from ill With anxious skill, When soon this hand will freeze, this throbbing heart be still.
Page liv - He passed the whole term in preparing himself for this ; reading for college subjects in bed, in his walks, or, as he says, where, when, and how he could ; never having a moment to spare, and often going to his tutor without having read at all.
Page xliii - What is this passing scene ? A peevish April day, A little sun a little rain, And then night sweeps along the plain, And all things fade away: Man, soon discussed, Yields up his trust, And all his hopes and fears lie with him in the dust.
Page xlii - COME, Disappointment, come ! Not in thy terrors clad; Come in thy meekest, saddest guise ; Thy chastening rod but terrifies The restless and the bad. But I recline Beneath thy shrine, And round my brow resign'd, thy peaceful cypress twine.
Page 269 - In yonder cot, along whose mouldering walls In many a fold the mantling woodbine falls, The village matron kept her little school, Gentle of heart, yet knowing well to rule; Staid was the dame, and modest was her mien; Her garb was coarse, yet whole, and nicely clean; Her neatly...
Page 270 - A little favourite rapidly I grew : And oft she stroked my head with fond delight, Held me a pattern to the dunce's sight; And, as she gave my diligence its praise, Talk'd of the honours of my future days.

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