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Side 41 - Let it be so! thy truth then be thy dower! For, by the sacred radiance of the sun, The mysteries of Hecate and the night; By all the operation of the orbs From whom we do exist and cease to be...
Side 32 - It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; And gentle winds and waters near Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away.
Side 146 - Upon my soul, Jack, thou art a very impudent fellow ! to do you justice, I think I never saw a piece of more consummate assurance ! Abs.
Side 117 - Oh! too convincing — dangerously dear — In woman's eye the unanswerable tear ! That weapon of her weakness she can wield, To save, subdue — at once her spear and shield: Avoid it — Virtue ebbs and Wisdom errs, Too fondly gazing on that grief of hers ! What lost a world, and hade a hero fly ? The timid tear in Cleopatra's eye.
Side 144 - There is a dangerous silence in that hour, A stillness which leaves room for the full soul To open all itself, without the power Of calling wholly back its self-control; The silver light which, hallowing tree and tower, Sheds beauty and deep softness o'er the whole Breathes also to the heart, and o'er it throws A loving languor, which is not repose.
Side 163 - Come, no excuses. Jack; — why, your father, you rogue, was so before you: — the blood of the Absolutes was always impatient.— Ha!
Side 79 - And there was mounting in hot haste: the steed. The mustering squadron, and the clattering car. Went pouring forward with impetuous speed, And swiftly forming in the ranks of war; And the deep thunder peal on peal afar; And near, the beat of the alarming drum Roused up the soldier ere the morning star; While thronged the citizens with terror dumb. Or whispering with white lips — "The foe! They come! they come ! " And wild and high the "Cameron's gathering
Side 171 - A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusky, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a foolscap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town!