Wat Tyler

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W. S. Johnson, 1851 - 510 páginas

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Página 24 - The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage Brought my too diligent ear : for several virtues Have I liked several women ; never any With so full soul, but some defect in her Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, And put it to the foil : but you, O you, So perfect, and so peerless, are created Of every creature's best.
Página 370 - A made a finer end, and went away an it had been any christom child. A parted even just between twelve and one, even at the turning o' the tide. For after I saw him fumble with the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile upon his fingers...
Página 50 - Give me another horse! bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream. O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What! do I fear myself? there's none else by Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
Página 58 - I saw two beings in the hues of youth Standing upon a hill, a gentle hill, Green and of mild declivity, the last As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such, Save that there was no sea to lave its base, But a most living landscape, and the wave Of woods and cornfields, and the abodes of men Scattered at intervals, and wreathing smoke Arising from such rustic roofs ; — the hill Was crown'd with a peculiar diadem Of trees, in circular array, so fix'd, Not by the sport of nature, but of man...
Página 58 - Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me, Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes : and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee, Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways...
Página 401 - I've paced much this weary, mortal round, And sage experience bids me this declare: — If Heaven a draught of heavenly pleasure spare, One cordial in this melancholy vale, 'Tis when a youthful, loving, modest pair In other's arms breathe out the tender tale, Beneath the milk-white thorn that scents the evening gale.
Página 148 - A something, light as air — a look, A word unkind or wrongly taken — Oh ! love, that tempests never shook, A breath, a touch like this hath shaken.
Página 18 - Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! let the earth hide thee ! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with.
Página 113 - Their adverse breasts with tusks oblique they wound; With grunts and groans the forest rings around. So fought the knights, and fighting must abide, Till fate an umpire sends their difference to decide.
Página 138 - O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; My ears with hollow murmurs rung. In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd ; My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd ; My feeble pulse forgot to play ; I fainted, sunk, and died away.

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