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Charles Dudley Warner, Hamilton Wright Mabie, Lucia Isabella Gilbert Runkle, George H. Warner, Edward Cornelius Towne
R. S. Peale and J. A. Hill, 1897
 

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Page 10060 - Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys! Dwell in some idle brain, And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, As thick and numberless As the gay motes that people the sun-beams, Or likest hovering dreams, The fickle pensioners of Morpheus
Page 10051 - Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, And with forced fingers rude Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, Compels me to disturb your season due: For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime, Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer.
Page 9832 - And he came down with them, and stood in the plain, and the company of his disciples, and a great multitude of people out of all Judea and Jerusalem, and from the seacoast of Tyre and Sidon, which came to hear him, and to be healed of their diseases; 18 And they that were vexed with unclean spirits: and they were healed.
Page 10057 - To hear the lark begin his flight, And singing startle the dull night, From his watch-tower in the skies, Till the dappled dawn doth rise...
Page 10047 - CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot ; Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, Or man, or woman.
Page 10060 - Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony; That Orpheus...
Page 10066 - He walked with, to support uneasy steps Over the burning marie, not like those steps On Heaven's azure ; and the torrid clime Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire.
Page 10064 - Is this the region, this the soil, the clime," Said then the lost Archangel, " this the seat That we must change for Heaven? this mournful gloom For that celestial light ? Be it so, since He Who now is sovran can dispose and bid What shall be right : farthest from Him is best, Whom reason hath equalled, force hath made supreme Above his equals.
Page 10057 - Hence, loathed Melancholy, Of Cerberus and blackest midnight born, In Stygian cave forlorn, 'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy ! Find out some uncouth cell, Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, And the night-raven sings ; There under ebon shades, and low-brow'd rocks, As ragged as thy locks, In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell.
Page 10053 - Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past That shrunk thy streams; return, Sicilian Muse, And call the vales, and bid them hither cast Their bells and flowrets of a thousand hues.

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