The Dublin Inquisitor, ..., Volumes 1-2
C.P. Archer, ..., Dame Street., 1821 - English literature
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Page 224 - Let Fate do her worst ; there are relics of joy, Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy ; Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care, And bring back the features that joy used to wear. Long, long be my heart with such memories filled ! Like the vase, in which roses have once been distilled — You may break, you may shatter the vase if you will. But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Page 284 - OH happiness ! our being's end and aim ! Good, pleasure, ease, content ? whate'er thy name : That something still which prompts th' eternal sigh, For which we bear to live, or dare to die, Which still so near us, yet beyond us lies, O'er-look'd, seen double, by the fool, and wise.
Page 243 - The marriage of Olivia, and the succeeding perplexity, though well enough contrived to divert on the stage, wants credibility, and fails to produce the proper instruction required in the drama, as it exhibits no just picture of life.
Page 223 - She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, And lovers around her are sighing; But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps, For her heart in his grave is lying. She sings the wild song of her dear native plains. Every note which he loved awaking — Ah! little they think, who delight in her strains, How the heart of the minstrel is breaking!
Page 224 - Shall I ask the brave soldier, who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree ? Shall I give up the friend I have valued and tried, If he kneel not before the same altar with me ? • From the heretic girl of my soul should I fly, To seek somewhere else a more orthodox kiss ? No, perish the hearts, and the laws that try Truth, valour, or love, by a standard like this ! SUBLIME WAS THE WARNING.
Page 127 - Peaceable nations, neighbouring or remote, Made captive, yet deserving freedom more Than those their conquerors, who leave behind Nothing but ruin wheresoe'er they rove, And all the flourishing works of peace destroy; Then swell with pride, and must be titled Gods, Great Benefactors of mankind, Deliverers, Worshipped with temple, priest, and sacrifice? One is the son of Jove, of Mars...
Page 162 - And shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. Give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; Nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear Thy voice — my own affrights me with its echoes.
Page 25 - The simple heart that mocks at worldly wiles; Light wit, that plays along the calm of life ; And stirs its languid surface into smiles ; Pure charity that comes not in a shower, Sudden and loud, oppressing what it feeds, But like the dew, with gradual silent power, Felt in the bloom it leaves along the meads...
Page 167 - Oh, thou most righteous judge — Humbly behold, I bow myself to thee, And own thy justice in this hard decree : No longer, then, my ripe offences spare, But what I merit, let me learn to bear. Yet since 'tis all my wretchedness can give, For my past crimes my forfeit life receive j No pity for my sufferings here I crave, And only hope forgiveness in the grave.
Page 127 - Large countries, and in fields great battles win, Great cities by assault: what do these worthies, But rob and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave Peaceable nations, neighbouring or remote, Made captive, yet deserving freedom more...