The Maid of Orleans, by the author of 'Whitefriars'.

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249. oldal - There's nothing in this world can make me joy : Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man ; And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world's taste, That it yields nought but shame and bitterness.
204. oldal - Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips ; Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes ; I should have found in some part of my soul A drop of patience : but, alas ! to make me A fixed figure, for the hand of scorn To point his slow unmoving finger at...
116. oldal - Maid sent hither by God the King of Heaven, the keys of all the good towns you have taken and laid waste in France. She comes in God's name to establish the Blood Royal, ready to make peace if you agree to abandon France and repay what you have taken.
360. oldal - For God is also' in sleep ; and dreams advise, . Which he hath sent propitious, some great good Presaging, since with sorrow' and heart's distress Wearied I fell asleep. But now lead on ! In me is no delay : with thee to go...
284. oldal - Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought.
350. oldal - We are the ministers of pain, and fear, And disappointment, and mistrust, and hate. And clinging crime ; and as lean dogs pursue Through wood and lake some struck and sobbing fawn, We track all things that weep, and bleed, and live, When the great King betrays them to our will.
238. oldal - The Pucelle was in the right : she had done and finished what she had to do : and so amidst the joy of this triumphant solemnity, she entertained the idea...

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