The Nabob at Home; Or, The Return to England

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Harper & Brothers, 1842 - 132 pages
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Page 77 - The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal; every other affliction to forget ; but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open, this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.
Page 58 - O ! wonder ! How many goodly creatures are there here ! How beauteous mankind is ! O brave new world, That has such people in't ! Pro. Tis new to thee.
Page 38 - Altho' his son has found a nobler father. Eventful day! how hast thou chang'd my state! Once on the cold, and winter shaded side Of a bleak hill, mischance had rooted me, Never to thrive, child of another soil : Transplanted now to the gay sunny vale, Like the green thorn of May my fortune flowers.
Page 31 - The ascending pile Stood fix'd her stately height: and straight the doors, Opening their brazen folds, discover, wide Within, her ample spaces, o'er the smooth And level pavement; from the arched roof, Pendent* by subtle magic, many a row Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed With naptha and asphaltus, yielded light As from a sky.
Page 85 - Take care my gates be open, bid all welcome ; All who rejoice with me to-day are friends : Let each indulge his genius, each be glad, Jocund and free, and swell the feast with mirth : The sprightly bowl shall cheerfully go round ; None shall be grave nor too severely wise; Losses and disappointments, cares and poverty, The rich man's insolence, and great man's scorn, In wine shall be forgotten all.
Page 111 - Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven : And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, It would not stain an angel's cheek, 'Tis that which pious fathers shed Upon a duteous daughter's head...
Page 65 - A change we have found there, — and many a change ! Faces, and footsteps, and all things strange ! Gone are the heads of the silvery hair , And the young that were have a brow of care, And the place is hushed where the children played — Nought looks the same, save the nest we made...
Page 101 - Upon her face there was the tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife, And an unquiet drooping of the eye, As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.
Page 87 - Tis as the general pulse Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause ; An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
Page 58 - A fairer isle than Britain never sun Viewed in his wide career ! A lovely spot For all that life can ask ! salubrious ! .mild ! , Its hills are green, its woods and prospects fair. Its meadows fertile, and, to crown the whole, In one delightful word, it is our home — Our native isle !

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