Chambers's Miscellany of Useful and Entertaining Tracts, Volum 16,Utgave 136 -Volum 18,Utgave 160

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William Chambers, Robert Chambers
William and Robert Chambers, 1847
 

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Side 13 - Take care of the pence and the pounds will take care of themselves is as true of personal habits as of money.
Side 28 - All day thy wings have fanned, At that far height, the cold, thin atmosphere, Yet stoop not, weary, to the welcome land, Though the dark night is near.
Side 18 - Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill: But their strong nerves at last must yield; They tame but one another still: Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath, When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow, Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See, where the victor-victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb; Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom...
Side 2 - And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies ; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.
Side 17 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate; Death lays his icy hand on Kings: Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Side 27 - midst falling dew, While glow the heavens with the last steps of day, Far, through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue Thy solitary way ? Vainly the fowler's eye Might mark thy distant flight to do thee wrong, As, darkly painted on the crimson sky, Thy figure floats along.
Side 24 - Ye winds, that have made me your sport, Convey to this desolate shore Some cordial, endearing report Of a land I shall visit no more. My friends, do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me?
Side 12 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night, For thou must die. Sweet rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Side 1 - Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw. 0 make in me those civil wars to cease: 1 will good tribute pay, if thou do so. Take thou of me smooth pillows, sweetest bed, A chamber deaf to noise and blind to light, A rosy garland and a weary head: And if these things, as being thine by right, Move not thy heavy grace, thou shalt in me, Livelier than elsewhere, Stella's image see.
Side 15 - Come, let us go while we are in our prime; And take the harmless folly of the time. We shall grow old apace, and die Before we know our liberty. Our life is short, and our days run As fast away as does the sun...

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