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appeared asked beautiful believe Blackwood called character charming comes Cork course Daniel dear death delightful died Doctor Donnelly doubt drink English eyes fact fair feeling fellow give gone half hand head hear heard heart honour hope hour interest Ireland Irish John King lady late leave letter light living London look Lord manner March matter means mind Miss morning nature never night North once original pass perhaps person poem poet poor present published reader respect seems song soul spirit Street sure sweet tell thee thing thou thought town translation true turn verse whole wine wish woman write written young
Page 12 - Tell me, Knife-Grinder, how came you to grind knives ? Did some rich man tyrannically use you? Was it the squire, or parson of the parish, Or the attorney ? Was it the squire, for killing of his game, or Covetous parson, for his tithes distraining ? Or roguish lawyer, made you lose your little All in a lawsuit ? (Have you not read the " Rights of Man," by Tom Paine ?) Drops of compassion tremble on my eyelids, Ready to fall, as soon as you have told your Pitiful story.
Page 190 - That light whose smile kindles the universe, That beauty in which all things work and move, That benediction which the eclipsing curse Of birth can quench not, that sustaining Love Which, through the web of being blindly wove By man and beast and earth and air and sea, Burns bright or dim, as each are mirrors of The fire for which all thirst, now beams on me, Consuming the last clouds of cold mortality.
Page 19 - Go, lovely rose ! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied. That hadst thou sprung In deserts where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired : Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die ! that she The common fate of all things rare May read in thee, — How...
Page 12 - Story? God bless you! I have none to tell, sir: Only last night a-drinking at the Chequers, This poor old hat and breeches, as you see, were Torn in a scuffle. Constables came up for to take me into Custody; they took me before the justice; Justice Oldmixon put me in the parish Stocks for a vagrant.
Page 190 - Fond wretch ! and know thyself and him aright. Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth; As from a centre, dart thy spirit's light Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might Satiate the void circumference: then shrink...
Page 188 - Over a gulf, and with the agony With which it clings seems slowly coming down ; — Even as a wretched soul hour after hour Clings to the mass of life ; yet, clinging, leans ; And, leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss In which it fears to fall. Beneath this crag, Huge as despair, as if in weariness The melancholy mountain yawns. Below...
Page 85 - He grasped the mane with both his hands, And eke, with all his might. His horse, who never in that sort Had handled been before, What thing upon his back had got Did wonder more and more. Away went Gilpin, neck or nought ; Away went hat and wig ; He little dreamt, when he set out, Of running such a rig.
Page 92 - And gallop'd off with all his might As he had done before. Away went Gilpin, and away Went Gilpin's hat and wig ; He lost them sooner than at first, For why ? they were too big. Now...
Page 190 - When lofty thought Lifts a young heart above its mortal lair, And love and life contend in it, for what Shall be its earthly doom, the dead live there And move like winds of light on dark and stormy air.
Page 185 - O, weep for Adonais! though our tears Thaw not the frost which binds so dear a head ! And thou, sad Hour, selected from all years To mourn our loss, rouse thy obscure compeers, And teach them thine own sorrow, say: "With me Died Adonais; till the Future dares Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be An echo and a light unto eternity!