The Works and Life of Walter Bagehot, Volume 1

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Page 227 - so sanded ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew, Crook-kneed and dewlapped like Thessalian bulls ; Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells, Each under each. A cry more tunable Was never holloa'd to nor cheered with horn In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly." * " Judge when you hear.
Page 248 - down topples she, And tailor cries, and falls into a cough ; And then the whole quire hold their hips, and loffe ; And waxen in their mirth, and neeze and swear A merrier hour was never wasted there.— But room, Fairy, here comes Oberon. Fat. And here my mistress :—Would that he were gone
Page 243 - canopy To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? O yes, it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude,—the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Page 222 - By this, poor Wat, far off, upon a hill, Stands on his hinder legs with listening ear, To harken if his foes pursue him still; Anon their loud alarums he doth hear ; And now his grief may be compared well To one sore sick that hears the passing bell.
Page 217 - right His tongue could whisper words of might. —Now another day is come, Fitter hope and nobler doom, He hath thrown aside his crook, And hath buried deep his book." ' " And now the streams may sing for others' pleasure. The hills sleep on in their eternity." * He is gone from among them.
Page 270 - and the sea, And voice of living beings and woven hymns Of night and day, and the deep heart of man ".* But the true home of the idea is in the starlight sky ; we instinctively mingle it with an admiration of infinite space, a cold purity is around us, and the clear and steel-like words of
Page 242 - For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would I were dead 1 if God's good will were so ; For what is in this world but grief and woe
Page 222 - see the dew-bedaddled wretch Turn and return, indenting with the way ; Each envious briar his weary legs doth scratch, Each shadow makes him stop, each murmur stay : For misery is trodden on by many, And being low, never relieved by any.
Page 236 - Allans, we will employ thee. Dull. I '11 make one in a dance or so, or I will play on the tabor to the worthies, and let them dance the hay. Hol. Most dull, honest Dull, to our sport away.
Page 237 - whereupon ; for, says he, you are an honest woman, and well thought on ; therefore take heed to what guests you receive: Receive, says he, no swaggering companions.—There comes none here ;—you would bless you to hear what he said :—no, I'll no swaggerers.

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