The Novels and Romances of Anna Eliza Bray ..., Volume 8

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Longman, Brown, Green, and Longmans, 1845
 

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Pagina 367 - O mother, mother! What have you done? Behold, the heavens do ope, The gods look down, and this unnatural scene They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O! You have won a happy victory to Rome; But for your son— believe it, O, believe it!— Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd, If not most mortal to him.
Pagina 145 - tis certain ; very sure, very sure : death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain to all ; all shall die.
Pagina 339 - I fetch my life and being From men of royal siege; and my demerits May speak unbonneted to as proud a fortune As this that I have reach'd : for know, lago, But that I love the gentle Desdemona, I would not my unhoused free condition Put into circumscription and confine For the sea's worth.
Pagina 316 - Thus saith the Lord of Hosts, Consider ye, and call for the mourning women, that they may come; and send for cunning women, that they may come: and let them make haste, and take up a wailing for us, that our eyes may run down with tears, and our eyelids gush out with waters.
Pagina 6 - Was wanting yet the pure delight of love By sound diffused, or by the breathing air, Or by the silent looks of happy things, Or flowing from the universal face Of earth and sky. But he had felt the power Of Nature, and already was prepared, By his intense conceptions, to receive Deeply the lesson deep of love which he, Whom. Nature, by whatever means, has taught To feel intensely, cannot but receive.
Pagina 381 - One fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws Its bleak shade alike o'er our joys and our woes, To which life nothing darker or brighter can bring, For which joy has no balm and affliction no sting...
Pagina 13 - These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die; like fire and powder, Which, as they kiss, consume...
Pagina 410 - Now to that name my courage prove my title! I am fire, and air; my other elements I give to baser life. So; have you done? Come then, and take the last warmth of my lips. Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. [Kisses them. IRAS falls and dies. Have I the aspic in my lips? Dost fall? If thou and nature can so gently part, The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, Which hurts, and is desir'd.
Pagina 378 - I saw him stand Before an Altar— with a gentle bride; Her face was fair, but was not that which made The Starlight of his Boyhood...
Pagina 380 - That in the antique Oratory shook His bosom in its solitude ; and then — As in that hour — a moment o'er his face The tablet of unutterable thoughts Was...

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