Friendship's Offering: And Winter's Wreath: a Christmas and New Year's Present (Google eBook)

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Smith, Elder, 1839 - Gift books
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Page 174 - O, let its memory, like a chain about thee, Gently compel and hasten thy return! Linger not long. Though crowds should woo thy staying, Bethink thee, can the mirth of thy friends, though dear, Compensate for the grief thy long delaying Costs the fond heart that sighs to have thee here?
Page 351 - The tear, down Childhood's cheek that flows, Is like the dew-drop on the rose ; When next the summer breeze comes by, And waves the bush, the flower is dry.
Page 268 - I gently hinted to him the consolations religion offers the bereaved. He took my hand, and smiling with more of kindness than I had ever seen him display, said, " My dear sir, do not mistake me, nor think me ignorant of that highest, that only source of comfort. What should I be, what should I have been without that ? Yes I shall go to her, but she will not return to me...
Page 208 - My humble opinion is that one may either laugh at them or weep over them, as one is in the humour. "Htectolerabiliusvelridentur, velflentur," as St. Augustine says. The Scripture tells us that "there is a time to laugh, and a time to weep...
Page 82 - What dost Thou in a Christian land ? '' WITHIN. The skies are wild, and the blast is cold ; Yet riot and luxury brawl within : Slaves are waiting, in silver and gold, Waiting the nod of a child of sin. The fire is crackling, wine is bubbling Up in each glass to its beaded brim : The jesters are laughing, the parasites quaffing " Happiness," " honour,
Page 83 - Within.) He who yon lordly feast enjoyeth, He who doth rest on his couch of down, He it was, who threw the forsaken Under the feet of the trampling town : Liar betrayer false as cruel, What is the doom for his dastard sin ! His peers, they scorn ? high dames, they shun him ? Unbar yon palace, and gaze within. There, yet his deeds are all trumpet-sounded, There, upon silken seats recline Maidens as fair as the summer morning, Watching him rise from the sparkling wine. Mothers...
Page 83 - While the world runs merry as heretofore ! (Within.) He who yon lordly feast enjoyeth, He who doth rest on his couch of down, He it was, who threw the forsaken Under the feet of the trampling town : Liar betrayer false as cruel, What is the doom for his dastard sin ? His peers, they scorn ? high dames, they shun him ? Unbar yon palace, and gaze within.
Page 87 - ... scaffold, all failed to dissolve the trance of grief into which she had fallen. But the moment of awakening agony came at last ! When the guillotine had done its office, and the body of her beloved Victor lay bleeding and dead before her sorrow, asserting its omnipotent sway over humanity, shivered the feeble barriers of temporary unconsciousness, and let the imprisoned mind free to contemplate the ruin of its only earthly hope, the extinction of all youth's sweetest visions. Then came...
Page 87 - The time flew onward, tie day for his marriage arrived. The bridal solemnity was over, when, as the party were leaving the church, D'Aubigny was arrested on a charge of forgery ! The trial and condemnation rapidly succeeded, and the day of execution dawned too soon. Victor met his death calmly and resignedly. But it is not with him our tale has to do, it is with her, the beautiful, the bereaved one, with Isabelle d'Aubigny the convict's bride.
Page 82 - Slaves are waiting, in crimson and gold, Waiting the nod of a child of sin. The fire is crackling, wine is bubbling Up in each glass to its beaded brim : The jesters are laughing, the parasites quaffing " Happiness," " honour,

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