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artist beautiful Beethoven blessed bright called character charming chemisette child Chilson Christ corsage dark daugh dear death deep Douarnenez dream dress earth England eyes face father fear feel flowers Fredrika Bremer Fulham genius girl give grace guerite hand happy hath head hear heard heart heaven honour hope Horace Vernet hour human Jenny Lind John John Bunyan John Todd Kirkham labour lady light living Locrine look marriage Mary Howitt ment mind Miss morning Moscow mother nature ness never night o'er once passed Philadelphia poem poor racter replied rich round scene seemed seen sister smile song soon sorrow soul spirit stood story sweet tears tell thee things thou thought tion Trelan truth Tsar turned voice wife woman wonder words young
369. oldal - As Caesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honour him; but, as he was ambitious, I slew him.
330. oldal - At last divine Cecilia came, Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store, Enlarged the former narrow bounds, And added length to solemn sounds, With Nature's mother-wit, and arts unknown before. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown : He raised a mortal to the skies: She drew an angel down.
329. oldal - The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit's tread ; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs the jay, And from the wood-top calls the crow through all the gloomy day. Where are the flowers, the fair young flowers, that lately sprang and stood In brighter light and softer airs, a beauteous sisterhood?
50. oldal - Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O, no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wandering bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
395. oldal - BY THE rivers of Babylon, there we sat down, yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion. We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof. For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song; and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
44. oldal - Imports not, if thou reckon right; the rest From Man or Angel the great Architect Did wisely to conceal, and not divulge His secrets, to be scanned by them who ought Rather admire. Or, if they list to try Conjecture, he his fabric of the Heavens Hath left to their disputes — perhaps to move His laughter at their quaint opinions wide...
43. oldal - Her home is on the deep. With thunders from her native oak, She quells the floods below, As they roar on the shore When the stormy tempests blow ; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy tempests blow.
366. oldal - What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield: And what is else not to be overcome?
192. oldal - This woman and I, though we came together as poor as poor might be, not having so much household stuff as a dish or spoon betwixt us both; yet this she had for her part — The Plain Man's Pathway to Heaven and The Practice of Piety, which her father had left her when he died.