Flowers of fiction

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Page 285 - How often have I blest the coming day, When toil remitting lent its turn to play, And all the village train, from labour free, Led up their sports beneath the spreading tree...
Page 138 - She was a Phantom of delight When first she gleamed upon my sight; A lovely Apparition sent To be a moment's ornament; Her eyes as stars of Twilight fair; Like Twilight's, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From May-time and the cheerful Dawn; A dancing Shape, an Image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.
Page 15 - Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest ! Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest ! Thine be ilka joy and treasure, Peace, Enjoyment, Love, and Pleasure ! Ae fond kiss, and then we sever ! Ae fareweel, alas ! for ever ! Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee, Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee.
Page 151 - A maiden never bold ; Of spirit so still and quiet, that her motion Blush'd at herself...
Page 263 - With what a compell'd face a woman sits While she is drawing ! I have noted divers Either to feign smiles, or suck in the lips, To have a little mouth ; ruffle the cheeks, To have the dimple seen ; and so disorder The face with affectation...
Page 10 - They sin who tell us love can die. ; With life all other passions fly, All others are but vanity. In Heaven Ambition cannot dwell, Nor Avarice in the vaults of Hell ; Earthly these passions of the Earth, They perish where they have their birth ; But Love is indestructible. Its holy flame for ever burneth, From Heaven it came, to Heaven returneth...
Page 170 - O Woman ! in our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made, When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou ! — Scarce were the piteous accents said, When, with the Baron's casque, the maid To the nigh streamlet ran.
Page 129 - Feebly must they have felt Who, in old time, attired with snakes and whips The vengeful Furies. Beautiful regards Were turned on me — the face of her I loved ; The Wife and Mother pitifully fixing Tender reproaches, insupportable...
Page 15 - ALTHO' thou maun never be mine, Altho' even hope is denied ; 'Tis sweeter for thee despairing, Than aught in the world beside — Jessy ! Here's a health, &c. I mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day, As, hopeless, I muse on thy charms : But welcome the dream o' sweet slumber, For then I am lockt in thy arms — Jessy ! Here's a health, &c.

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