Was andere dazu sagen - Rezension schreiben
Es wurden keine Rezensionen gefunden.
Andere Ausgaben - Alle anzeigen
appear attend beauty brother cause child cold comfort Conscience cried crime daring deed delight doubt dread duty ease face fair faithful fall fate father fear feel felt fond gain gave gentle George give grace grief grieved hand happy hear heard heart History hope hour humble husband Jesse John kind knew lady less live look maid mean meet mind never night o'er once pain passion peace pleased pleasure poor praise present pride prove reason replied rest secret seen shame smile soon sorrow sought soul speak spirit Squire strong sure tale terror thee thing thou thought told tried true trust truth virtue weak wife wish wrong young youth
Seite 102 - He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i' th' centre, and enjoy bright day : But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts, Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; Himself is his own dungeon.
Seite 81 - Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow ; Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; And, with some sweet, oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart ? Doct.
Seite 81 - My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree; Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all 'Guilty! guilty!
Seite 179 - I have lived long enough : my way of life Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf ; And that which should accompany old age, As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends, I must not look to have...
Seite 17 - Nor wears a rosy blush, nor sheds perfume ; The few dull flowers that o'er the place are spread Partake the nature of their fenny bed; Here on its wiry stem, in rigid bloom, Grows the salt lavender that lacks perfume ; Here the dwarf sallows creep, the septfoil harsh, And the soft slimy mallow of the marsh ; Lmv on the ear the distant billows sound, And just in view appears their stony bound...
Seite 162 - ' Dead ! ' said the startled lady ; ' Yes, he fell Close at the door where he was wont to dwell ; There his sole friend, the ass, was standing by, Half dead himself, to see his master die.
Seite 145 - My wits begin to turn. — Come on, my boy : How dost, my boy ? Art cold ? I am cold myself. — Where is this straw, my fellow ? The art of our necessities is strange, That can make vile things precious.
Seite 89 - Yet still there whispers the small voice within, Heard through Gain's silence, and o'er Glory's din : Whatever creed be taught or land be trod, Man's conscience is the oracle of God.
Seite 149 - Almighty gods! if all we mortals want, If all we can require, be yours to grant; Make this fair statue mine (he would have said, But changed his words for shame; and only pray'd), Give me the likeness of my ivory maid.