The castle of Santa Fe, by [the] author of Jealousy; or, The dreadful mistake.4 vols, Volume 3

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Page 73 - One part, one little part, we dimly scan Through the dark medium of life's feverish dream ; Yet dare arraign the whole stupendous plan, If but that little part incongruous seem. Nor is that part perhaps what mortals deem ; Oft from apparent ill our blessings rise. O then renounce that impious self-esteem, That aims to trace the secrets of the skies ; For thou art but of dust ; be humble, and be 'wise.
Page 40 - Plate sin with gold, And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks: Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.
Page 27 - The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day Is crept into the bosom of the sea, And now loud -howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night...
Page 316 - Then, lovely mourner, wipe those tears away, And cares that urge thee to decay ; Like ravenous Age thy charms they waste, Wrinkle thy youthful brow, and blooming beauties But keep thy looks and mind serene, [blast.
Page 247 - Pity the madness, and despise the show. Well as I can my tedious part I bear, And wait for my dismission without fear.
Page 247 - ... advise ! I view this various scene with equal eyes ! In crowded Court, I find myself alone ; And pay my worship to a nobler throne ! Long since, the value of this World I knew ! Pitied the folly ; and despised the shew ! Well as I can, my tedious part I bear ; And wait dismissal, without pain, or fear! Seldom I mark Mankind's detested ways ; Not hearing censure, or affecting praise ! And, unconcerned, my future fate I trust To that sole Being, merciful and just! THE VICAR OF BRA Y. IN good King...
Page 94 - Th' unequal conflict, and as angels look On dying saints, his eye's compassion shed, With love illumin'd high. " Fear not," he said. " Sweet innocence ! thou stranger to offence, And inward storm ! he who yon sky involves In frowns of darkness, ever smiles on thee With kind regard. O'er thee the secret shaft That wastes at midnight, o'er th...
Page 212 - And adds new labours to their Hell. And, shield me heav'n! what hollow sound, Like fate's dread knell, runs echoing round? The bell strikes one, that magic hour, When rising fiends exert their pow'r. And now, sure now, some cause unblest Breathes more than horrour through my breast.
Page 122 - At each angle was a watch-tower, which commanded a view of the country for miles round.

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