The French Quarterly, Volumes 7-8

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Gustave Rudler
University Press, 1925 - France
 

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Page 30 - I would not have a slave to till my ground, To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd.
Page 32 - Work ! work ! work ! My labour never flags ; and what are its wages ? A bed of straw, a crust of bread — and rags. That shattered roof and this naked floor, a table, a broken chair, and a wall so blank, my shadow I thank for sometimes falling there.
Page 27 - How charming is divine philosophy ! Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, But musical as is Apollo's lute, And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, Where no crude surfeit reigns.
Page 28 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope, but still bear up and steer Right onward.
Page 28 - The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied In Liberty's defence, my noble task, Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask Content though blind, had I no better guide.
Page 25 - Crosse he bore, The deare remembrance of his dying Lord, For whose sweete sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead, as living, ever him ador'd : Upon his shield the like was also scor'd, For soveraine hope which in his helpe he had.
Page 28 - Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask ? The conscience, friend, to...
Page 32 - Work - work - work! My labour never flags; And what are its wages? A bed of straw, A crust of bread - and rags. That shatter'd roof - and this naked floor A table - a broken chair And a wall so blank, my shadow I thank For sometimes falling there! 'Work - work - work! From weary chime to chime, Work - work - work As prisoners work for crime! Band, and gusset, and seam, Seam, and gusset, and band, Till the heart is sick, and the brain benumb'd, As well as the weary hand.
Page 25 - A GENTLE knight was pricking on the plain, Yclad in mighty arms and silver shield, Wherein old dints of deep wounds did remain, The cruel marks of many a bloody field ; Yet arms till that time did he never wield : His angry steed did chide his foaming bit, As much disdaining to the curb to yield : Full jolly knight he seem'd, "and fair did sit, As one for knightly jousts and fierce encounters fit.
Page 38 - A présent, je m'en repens. Je ne vois jamais les inconvénients des choses qu'après les avoir faites. Je crains qu'une personne, à qui cependant il n'ya vraiment pas l'application la plus éloignée ni comme position ni comme caractère, ne s'en blesse. Mais il est trop tard. J'ai cédé au dernier mouvement d'amour-propre que j'aurai probablement de ma vie, car mon talent est fini...

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