Scribners Monthly, Volumen8

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Scribner & Company, 1874
 

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Página 455 - Friend ! may each domestic bliss be thine ! Be no unpleasing melancholy mine : Me, let the tender office long engage, To rock the cradle of reposing age, With lenient arts extend a mother's breath, Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death, Explore the thought, explain the asking eye, And keep awhile one parent from the sky...
Página 477 - God ! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain ; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point...
Página 339 - And others' feet still seemed but strangers in my way. Thus, great with child to speak, and helpless in my throes, Biting my truant pen, beating myself for spite, "Fool," said my Muse to me, "look in thy heart and write.
Página 316 - See what a grace was seated on this brow ; Hyperion's curls, the front of Jove himself, An eye like Mars, to threaten and command; A station like the herald Mercury New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill ; A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal To give the world assurance of a man : This was your husband.
Página 333 - Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.
Página 162 - Lo ! I forgive thee, as Eternal God Forgives : do thou for thine own soul the rest.
Página 167 - ... if the time should ever come when these things shall be familiar to us, and the relations under which they are contemplated by the followers of these respective sciences shall be manifestly and palpably material to us as enjoying and suffering beings.
Página 314 - To the Reader THIS Figure, that thou here seest put, It was for gentle Shakespeare cut; Wherein the Graver had a strife With Nature, to out-doo the life: O, could he but have drawne his wit As well in brasse, as he hath hit His face; the Print would then surpasse All, that was ever writ in brasse. But, since he cannot, Reader, looke Not on his Picture, but his Booke.
Página 339 - What then his father was, that since is he. Now with a title more to the degree ; England's high Chancellor, the destined heir In his soft cradle to his father's chair ; Whose even thread the fates spin round and full Out of their choicest and their whitest wool.
Página 378 - Life ! we've been long together, Through pleasant and through cloudy weather ; 'Tis hard to part when friends are dear — Perhaps 'twill cost a sigh, a tear : — Then steal away, give little warning, Choose thine own time ; Say not ' Good night ' — but in some brighter clime Bid me

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