Ethel Churchill: Or, The Two Brides ...

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H. Colburn, 1837
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Page 33 - I'd have you remember that when poverty comes in at the door, love flies out at the window.
Page 267 - A noticeable Man with large grey eyes, And a pale face that seemed undoubtedly As if a blooming face it ought to be; Heavy his low-hung lip did oft appear, Deprest by weight of musing Phantasy; Profound his forehead was, though not severe; Yet some did think that he had little business here: Sweet heaven forefend!
Page 31 - They sleep on silk and down, And never think how heavily The weary head lies down. They know not of the scanty meal With small pale faces round; No fire upon the cold, damp hearth, When snow is on the ground.
Page 122 - The birds of broadest wing their mansion form, The chough, the seamew, the loquacious crow, And scream aloft, and skim the deeps below. Depending vines the shelving cavern screen, With purple clusters blushing through the green. Four limpid fountains from the clefts distil...
Page 158 - And rosy fruits, attend the radiant comer. We might have been! It is the thought that darkens on our youth, When first experience — sad experience — teaches What fallacies we have believed for truth, And what few truths endeavour ever reaches. We might have been! Alas! how different from what we are Had we but known the bitter path before us; But feelings, hopes, and fancies left afar, What in the wide bleak world can e'er restore us? We might have been! It is the motto of all human things, The...
Page 231 - Tis a strange mystery, the power of words ! Life is in them, and death ! A word can send The crimson colour hurrying to the cheek, — Hurrying with many meanings ; or can turn The current cold and deadly to the heart. Anger and fear are in them ; grief and joy Aie in their sound ; yet slight, impalpable : — A word is but a breath of passing air.
Page 163 - Twas flushing with the strife below ; — Her eye was bright, but who could tell It shone with tears she strove to quell ; — Her voice was gay, her step was light ; And, beaming, beautiful, and bright, It was as if life could confer Nothing but happiness on her. Ah ! who could think that all so fair Was semblance, and but misery there.
Page 158 - WE MIGHT HAVE BEEN! We might have been! — these are but common words, And yet they make the sum of life's bewailing; They are the echo of those finer chords, Whose music life deplores when unavailing. We might have been!
Page 121 - The cave was brighten'd with a rising blaze : Cedar and frankincense, an odorous pile, Flamed on the hearth, and wide perfumed the isle ; While she with work and song the time divides, And through the loom the golden shuttle guides. Without the grot a various sylvan scene...
Page 121 - And nodding cypress form'da fragrant shade ; On whose high branches, waving with the storm, The birds of broadest wing their mansion form, The chough, the sea-mew, the loquacious crow, And scream aloft, and skim the deeps below.

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