The bosom friend, by the author of 'The gambler's wife'.

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Page 265 - Oh ! there are looks and tones that dart An instant sunshine through the heart, — As if the soul that minute caught Some treasure it through life had sought...
Page 188 - For the Man, Who, in this spirit, communes with the Forms Of Nature, who with understanding heart Doth know and love such Objects as excite No morbid passions, no disquietude, No vengeance, and no hatred, needs must feel The joy of that pure principle of Love So deeply, that, unsatisfied with aught Less pure and exquisite, he cannot choose But seek for objects of a kindred love In Fellow-natures and a kindred joy.
Page 132 - Fought against frowns with smiles ; gave glorious chase To persecutions ; and against the face Of Death and fiercest dangers, durst with brave And sober pace, march on to meet A GRAVE On their bold breasts, about the world they bore Thee, And to the teeth of Hell stood up to teach Thee, In centre of their inmost souls, they wore Thee ; Where racks and torments strived, in vain, to reach Thee.
Page 97 - Which he has never used; that thought with him Is in its infancy. The man, whose eye Is ever on himself, doth look on one, The least of nature's works, one who might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever. O, be wiser thou! Instructed that 'true knowledge leads to love, True dignity abides with him alone Who, in the silent hour of inward thought, Can still suspect, and still revere himself, In lowliness of heart.
Page 123 - By the festal cities' blaze, While the wine-cup shines in light ! And yet, amidst that joy and uproar, Let us think of them that sleep, Full many a fathom deep, By thy wild and stormy steep, Elsinore...
Page 132 - God'a pure throne to bow ? The world is but a broken reed, And life grows early dim : Who shall be near thee in thy need. To lead thee up — to Him ? He, who himself was " undefiled :" With him we trust thee, beautiful child ! The dead Leaves strew the Forest-walk.
Page 230 - Why bows the side-box from its inmost rows ? How vain are all these glories, all our pains, Unless good sense preserve what beauty gains : That men may say, when we the...
Page 111 - Thus I hurl My dazzling spells into the spongy air, Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, And give it false presentments, lest the place And my quaint habits breed astonishment, And put the damsel to suspicious flight; Which must not be, for that's against my course.
Page 97 - Howe'er disguised in its own majesty, Is littleness; that he, who feels contempt For any living thing, hath faculties Which he has never used; that thought with him Is in its infancy. The man, whose eye Is ever on himself, doth look on one, The least of nature's works, one who might move The wise man to that scorn which wisdom holds Unlawful, ever.
Page 321 - For the living know that they shall die: but the dead know not any thing, neither have they any more a reward ; for the memory of them is forgotten. Also their love, and their hatred, and their envy, is now perished ; neither have they any more a portion for ever in any thing that is done under the sun.

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