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Página 76 - Would I were dead! if God's good will were so: For what is in this world but grief and woe ? O God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain : To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point...
Página 176 - Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state: From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer being here below? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Página 136 - He must observe their mood on whom he jests, The quality of persons, and the time, 70 And, like the haggard, check at every feather That comes before his eye. This is a practice As full of labour as a wise man's art: For folly that he wisely shows is fit; But wise men, folly-fall'n, quite taint their wit.
Página 202 - Wars, hitherto the only argument Heroic deem'd ; chief mastery to dissect, With long and tedious havoc, fabled knights, In battles feign'd ; the better fortitude Of patience and heroic martyrdom Unsung ; or to describe races and games, Or tilting furniture, emblazon'd shields, Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds, Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights At joust and tournament ; then marshall'd feast Served up in hall with sewers and seneschals; The skill of artifice or office mean, Not that...
Página 201 - Memory and her siren daughters, but by devout prayer to that eternal Spirit, who can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim, with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases.
Página 114 - Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever he sleeps well; Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing Can touch him further.
Página 345 - Twixt soul and body a divorce, It could not sever man and wife, Because they both liv'd but one life. Peace, good reader, do not weep ; Peace, the lovers are asleep. They, sweet turtles, folded lie In the last knot that love could tie.
Página 274 - O my love! my wife! Death, that hath sucked the honey of thy breath, Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty. Thou art not conquered ; beauty's ensign yet Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, And death's pale flag is not advanced there.
Página 31 - In that case, however, there would have been some conformity of character, number, and sequence ; whereas there is a marked difference in all these constituents among the various nations of the earth. The learned author of Hermes informs us, that to about twenty plain elementary sounds we owe that variety of articulate voices which have been sufficient to explain the sentiments of such an innumerable multitude as all the past and present generations of men ; and of course our alphabet, assuming this...
Página 345 - Because they both lived but one life. Peace, good reader, do not weep, Peace, the lovers are asleep: They, sweet turtles, folded lie In the last knot that love could tie : Let them sleep, let them sleep on, Till this stormy night be gone, And the eternal morrow dawn, Then the curtains will be drawn, And they waken with that light, Whose day shall never sleep in night.