The Woodland Family Or The Sons of Error and Daughters of Simplicity

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J.M'Gowan and Sons, 1826

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Side 449 - The Boy was sprung to manhood: in the wilds Of fiery climes he made himself a home, And his soul drank their sunbeams: he was girt With strange and dusky aspects; he was not Himself like what he had been; on the sea And on the shore he was a wanderer...
Side 151 - Twas not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee — Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee, Founded on another's woe: Though my many faults defaced me, Could no other arm be found, Than the one which once embraced me, To inflict a cureless wound?
Side 433 - When lovely woman stoops to folly. And finds, too late, that men betray. What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover. To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, — is to die.
Side 524 - The spinsters and the knitters in the sun, And the free maids that weave their thread with bones, Do use to chant it ; it is silly sooth, And dallies with the innocence of love, Like the old age.
Side 475 - While many of his tribe slumber'd around ; And they were canopied by the blue sky — So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful, That God alone was to be seen in heaven.
Side 197 - And this is in the night : — Most glorious night ! Thou wert not sent for slumber ! let me be A sharer in thy fierce and far delight, — A portion of the tempest and of thee...
Side 84 - For, oh, if there be an elysium on earth, It is this, it is this...
Side 512 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, ' Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise !* Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Side 99 - I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool ;• — a miserable world ! — As I do live by food, I met a fool ; Who laid him down and basked him in the sun, And railed on lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, — and yet a motley fool. Good morrow, fool, quoth I. No, sir...
Side 132 - The good are better made by ill, As odours crushed are sweeter still; And gloomy as thy past has been, Bright shall thy future be...

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