The saint's tragedy; or, The true story of Elizabeth of Hungary

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Page 184 - Hearken, O daughter, and consider, and incline thine ear; forget also thine own people, and thy father's house ; so shall the King greatly desire thy beauty : for He is thy Lord ; and worship thou Him.
Page 76 - I must headlong into seas of toil, Leap forth from self, and spend my soul on others. Oh ! contemplation palls upon the spirit, Like the chill silence of an autumn sun : While action, like the roaring south-west wind, Sweeps laden with elixirs, with rich draughts Quickening the wombed earth. GUTA. And yet what bliss, When dying in the darkness of God's light, The soul can pierce these blinding webs of nature, And float up to The Nothing, which is all things — The ground of being, where self-forgetful...
Page 125 - Oh ! that we two were Maying Down the stream of the soft spring breeze ; Like children with violets playing In the shade of the whispering trees. Oh ! that we two sat dreaming On the sward of some sheep-trimmed down Watching the white mist steaming Over river and mead and town. Oh ! that we two lay sleeping In our nest in the churchyard sod, With our limbs at rest on the quiet earth's breast, And our souls at home with God ! Lewis. Ah, turn away those swarthy diamonds...
Page 111 - God ! fight we not within a cursed world, Whose very air teems thick with leagued fiends — Each word we speak has infinite effects — Each soul we pass must go to heaven or hell — And this our one chance through eternity To drop and die, like dead leaves in the brake, Or like the meteor stone, though whelmed itself, Kindle the dry moors into fruitful blaze — And yet we live too fast ! Be earnest, earnest, earnest ; mad, if thou wilt : Do what thou dost as if the stake were heaven, And that...
Page 29 - Old decays but foster new creations ; Bones and ashes feed the golden corn ; Fresh elixirs wander every moment, Down the veins through which the live past feeds its child, the live unborn.

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