Ethel Churchill, Or, The Two Brides, Volume 2

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Page 243 - Seen him, uncumber'd with the Venal tribe, Smile without Art, and win without a Bribe. Would he oblige me ? let me only find, He does not think me what he thinks mankind.
Page 240 - No more ; for I disdain All pomp when thou art by : far be the noise Of kings and crowns from us, whose gentle souls Our kinder fates have steer'd another way.
Page 35 - Youth, beauty, rank, and wealth, all these combined, — Can these be wretched ? Mystery of the mind ! Whose happiness is in itself, but still Has not that happiness at its own will. And she was wretched; she, the young, the fair, The good, the kind, bow'd down in her despair. Ay, bitterest of the bitter, this worst pain, — To know love's offering has been in vain ; Rejected, scorn'd, and trampled under foot, Its bloom and leaves destroy'd, not so its root. " He loves me not," — no other word...
Page 242 - Shrinks up, and folds its silken arms to rest; And, bending to the blast, all pale and dead, Hears from within the wind sing round its head; So, shrouded up, your beauty disappears: Unveil, my love, and lay aside your fears.
Page 91 - They weave their petty webs of lies and sneers, And lie themselves in ambush for the spoil. The web seems fair, and glitters in the sun, And the poor victim winds him in the toil Before he dreams of danger, or of death.
Page 47 - Possess'd of one great hall for state, Without a room to sleep or eat; How well you build, let flattery tell, And all the world how ill you dwell." We, however, are going to the villa at Chiswick, of which Dr. Arbuthnot says, that " it is fitted up with a cold in every corner, and a consumption by way of perspective." Lord Harvey's remark is, that " it is too small to live in, and too large to hang to one's watch...
Page 3 - Every day shows me more forcibly the narrowness of his mind, and the coldness of his heart. I do not believe that, in the whole course of his life, he had ever one lofty aspiration, or one warm and generous emotion. He is selfish, but it is selfishness on a singularly small scale : he is scarcely to be called ambitious ; for his desires extend no further than a riband and a title — the wish to influence or to control his fellow-men by talent and by exertion, would never enter the vacant space called...
Page 117 - It is a dreadful thing for woman's lip To swear the heart away ; yet know that heart Annuls the vow while speaking, and shrinks back From the dark future that it dares not face. The service read above the open grave Is far less terrible than that which seals The vow that binds the victim, not the will : For in the grave is rest.
Page 64 - It is a fearful stake the poet casts, When he comes forth from his sweet solitude Of hopes, and songs, and visionary things, To ask the iron verdict of the world. Till then his home has been in fairyland...
Page 226 - The presence of perpetual change Is ever on the earth ; To-day is only as the soil That gives to-morrow birth. Where stood the tower, there grows the weed ; Where stood the weed, the tower : No present hour its likeness leaves To any future hour.

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