The maiden & married life of Mary Powell, afterwards mistress Milton [by A. Manning].1866 |
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agayn agaynst Aldersgate Street answered arquebus askt author of Mary avised Bernardo Tasso Books Boys Chamber chidden Child Church Churchyard cloth continuallie Cousin cried crying Daye deare Moll Dick Dick and Harry Dinner Discourse Duchess of Portland dull Eyes Fcap feared Forest Hill Hand Harry hath hear hearde Heart Heaven Home House Husband indeede Jeremy Taylor John Milton knew Lady laughing Letter London look lookt Lord Lusiad manorial married Mary Powell methinks methought Mind Mistress Milton Morning never Night Oxford Payn pleasant poor pray Price Ralph replied rich moral Robin Roger Agnew Rose Rose's sayd says Father sayth seemed Sheepscote shew sing Smile soe soone spake Spiritts stept Studdy suddain sundrie sweet Moll talking Tears tell Things Thomas Glemham thought tolde twas twere Visitt Voice walked wearie weeping whome Wife wish write
Népszerű szakaszok
203. oldal - Yea, even that which Mischief meant most harm Shall in the happy trial prove most glory. But evil on itself shall back recoil, And mix no more with goodness, when at last, Gathered like scum, and settled to itself, It shall be in eternal restless change Self-fed and self-consumed.
239. oldal - As one who, long in populous city pent, Where houses thick and sewers annoy the air, Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe Among the pleasant villages and farms Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight ; The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine, Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound...
241. oldal - This is a charming little book ; and whether we regard its subject, cleverness, or delicacy of sentiment or expression— to say nothing of its type and orthography — it is likely to be a most acceptable present to young or old, be their peculiar taste for religion, morals, poetry, history, or romance.
162. oldal - Still upwards bent, as if heav'n were mine own, Thy anger comes, and I decline: What frost to that? what pole is not the zone, Where all things burn, When thou dost turn, And the least frown of thine is shown?
241. oldal - ... it is likely to be a most acceptable present to young or old, be their peculiar taste for religion, morals, poetry, history, or romance." — Christian Observer. " Unquestionably the production of an able hand, and a refined mind. We recommend it to all who love pure, healthy, literary fare."— Church and State Gazette.
161. oldal - Quite under ground ; as flowers depart To see their mother-root, when they have blown ; Where they, together, all the hard weather, Dead to the world, keep house unknown. These are thy wonders, Lord of power, Killing and quickening, bringing down to hell And up to heaven in an hour ; Making a chiming of a passing bell. We say amiss, this or that is : Thy word is all, if we could spell.
161. oldal - Who would have thought my shrivelled heart Could have recovered greenness? It was gone Quite underground; as flowers depart To see their mother-root, when they have blown; Where they together All the hard weather, Dead to the world, keep house unknown.
162. oldal - This or that is; Thy word is all, if we could spell. O that I once past changing were, Fast in Thy Paradise, where no flower can wither...
161. oldal - THE FLOWER. How fresh, O Lord, how sweet and clean Are Thy returns ! e'en as the flowers in spring , To which, besides their own demean, The late-past frosts tributes of pleasure bring.
163. oldal - O my only light, It cannot be That I am he, On whom thy tempests fell all night. These are thy wonders, Lord of love, To make us see we are but flowers that glide : Which when we once can find and prove, Thou hast a garden for us, where to bide. Who would be more, Swelling through store, Forfeit their Paradise by their pride.