Half hours of English history, selected and illustr. by C. Knight, Volum 2

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Side 164 - Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects
Side 167 - With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell, — • Such terrible impression made my dream.
Side 127 - God's will ! I pray thee, wish not one man more. By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost ; It yearns me not if men my garments wear ; Such outward things dwell not in my desires: But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive.
Side 164 - To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live. When this is known, then to divide the times: So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself...
Side 67 - Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm off from an anointed king...
Side 216 - Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience.
Side 218 - Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not: Let all the ends thou aim'st at be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr!
Side 166 - Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears ! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! Methought I saw a thousand fearful wracks : A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon ; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea.
Side 310 - Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile, Hath not old custom made this life more sweet Than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods More free from peril than the envious court? Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, — The seasons...
Side 99 - Was parmaceti for an inward bruise ; And that it was great pity, so it was, This villanous saltpetre should be digg'd Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, Which many a good tall fellow had destroy'd So cowardly ; and but for these vile guns He would himself have been a soldier.

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