Rural Sketches

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J. & C. Brown & Company, Ave Maria Lane., 1839 - 358 pages

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Page 312 - Be not afeard ; the isle is full of noises, Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments Will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices That, if I then had waked after long sleep, Will make me sleep again : and then, in dreaming, The clouds methought would open and show riches Ready to drop upon me, that, when I waked, I cried to dream again.
Page 273 - I cannot eat but little meat, My stomach is not good ; But sure I think, that I can drink With him that wears a hood : Though I go bare, take ye no care ; I nothing am a-cold : I stuff my skin so full within Of jolly good ale and old.
Page 259 - While yet a boy I sought for ghosts, and sped Through many a listening chamber, cave and ruin, And starlight wood, with fearful steps pursuing Hopes of high talk with the departed dead. I called on poisonous names with which our youth is fed; I was not heard - I saw them not When musing deeply on the lot Of life, at that sweet time when winds are wooing All vital things that wake to bring News of birds and blossoming, Sudden, thy shadow fell on me; I shrieked, and clasped my hands in ecstasy!
Page 295 - O, reason not the need ! Our basest beggars Are in the poorest thing superfluous. Allow" not nature more than nature needs, Man's life is cheap as beast's. Thou art a lady; If only to go warm were gorgeous, Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous wear'st, Which scarcely keeps thee warm.
Page 130 - They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand; the gate With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms. Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide. They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.
Page 325 - Every thing did banish moan, Save the nightingale alone : She, poor bird, as all forlorn, Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn, And there sung the dolefull'st ditty, That to hear it was great pity :
Page 89 - Fear no more the frown o' the great, Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe, and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust.
Page 325 - Fie, fie, fie" now would she cry; "Teru, teru," by and by: That to hear her so complain Scarce I could from tears refrain, For her griefs so lively shown Made me think upon mine own. Ah, thought I, thou mourn'st in vain, None...
Page 101 - To fair Fidele's grassy tomb Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet of earliest bloom, And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove: But shepherd lads assemble here, And melting virgins own their love. No...
Page 101 - Fidele's grassy tomb, Soft maids and village hinds shall bring Each opening sweet, of earliest bloom. And rifle all the breathing spring. No wailing ghost shall dare appear To vex with shrieks this quiet grove; But shepherd lads assemble here. And melting virgins own their love. No wither'd witch shall here be seen, No goblins lead their nightly crew : The female fays shall haunt the green. And dress thy grave with pearly dew.

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