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Abbot amid appeared arms beautiful beheld blue bosom breeze Cambrian Cardigan Carmarthen Castle cave character cheek choly cloud coracle cottage countenance daemon dance dark Datchet dead death devil Devil's coach Ditton park Elinor exclaimed faint fancy father foresters genealogist girl glen Glendower gloom goblin grave hand happiness head heard heart heaven Hoel hour hurried instant Kenedy lady libertine light Llandilo Llangadock Llanwrda Llynn-y-Van looked Lord melan melancholy memory mind minstrel moon Morgan morning Mortimer mountain neighbourhood never night o'er once outlaw passed pericranium Phlegethon poet Red Lion replied repose Rosalie rose round ruin rushed scene seated sewen shouts sigh slumber smile Somerset soul spirit stood stranger Styx summer sweet Talley Tartarus thee thou thought thunder tion tomb Tophet Towy twilight Twm John Catty village voice Wales wave weep Welch Wharton wild wind woman young youth
Pagina 8 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Pagina 137 - He shall not drop." said my uncle Toby, firmly. "A-well-o'day, do what we can for him, said Trim, maintaining his point,; "the poor soul will die." "He shall not die, by G— !" cried my uncle Toby. The Accusing Spirit, which flew up to heaven's chancery with the oath, blushed as he gave it in, and the Recording Angel, as he wrote it down, dropped a tear upon the word, and blotted it out for ever.
Pagina 357 - Ay, but to die, and go we know not where ; To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice...
Pagina 364 - If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth; if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy.
Pagina 116 - Oh! what was love made for, if 'tis not the same Through joy and through torment, through glory and shame? I know not, I ask not, if guilt's in that heart, I but know that I love thee, whatever thou art.
Pagina 194 - It ascends me into the brain, dries me there all the foolish and dull and crudy vapours which environ it, makes it apprehensive, quick, forgetive, full of nimble, fiery, and delectable shapes, which delivered o'er to the voice, the tongue, which is the birth, becomes excellent wit.
Pagina 116 - Come, rest in this bosom, my own stricken deer, Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here; Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast, And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.
Pagina 178 - Let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character. When my country takes her place among the nations of the earth, then...
Pagina 171 - Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world : now could I drink hot blood, And do such bitter business as the day Would quake to look on.
Pagina 178 - Let no man write my epitaph; for as no man who knows my motives dare now vindicate them, let not prejudice or ignorance asperse them. Let them and me repose in obscurity and peace, and my tomb remain uninscribed, until other times and other men can do justice to my character.