The Matchmaker: A Novel, Volume 3


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Página 68 - And, when the sun begins to fling His flaring beams, me, Goddess, bring, To arched walks of twilight groves, And shadows brown, that Sylvan loves, Of pine, or monumental oak, Where the rude axe, with heaved stroke, Was never heard the nymphs to daunt, Or fright them from their hallowed haunt.
Página 169 - SEE, WINTER comes, to rule the varied year, Sullen and sad, with all his rising train ; Vapours and Clouds and Storms. Be these my theme, These ! that exalt the soul to solemn thought, And heavenly musing. Welcome, kindred glooms, Congenial horrors, hail ! with frequent foot...
Página 29 - Alas ! regardless of their doom, The little victims play! No sense have they of Ills to come; Nor Care, beyond to-day! Yet see, how all around them wait The Ministers of human fate; And black Misfortune's baleful Train!
Página 39 - HEAVEN eternal fountain of our feelings! 'tis here I trace thee and this is thy divinity which stirs within me not that, in some sad and sickening moments, my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction mere pomp of words!
Página 1 - gainst the thunderstroke; And from beneath his boughs were seen to sally The dappled foresters — as day awoke, The branching stag swept down with all his herd, To quaff a brook which murmur'd like a bird.
Página 125 - O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! The rose looks fair, but fairer we it deem For that sweet odour which doth in it live. The canker-blooms have full as deep a dye As the perfumed tincture of the roses, Hang on such thorns, and play as wantonly When summer's breath their masked buds discloses; But, for their virtue...
Página 39 - Eternal fountain of our feelings! 'tis here I trace thee and this is thy "divinity which stirs within me" not, that in some sad and sickening moments, "my soul shrinks back upon herself, and startles at destruction" mere pomp of words! but that I feel some generous joys and generous cares beyond myself all comes from thee, great great SENSORIUM of the world! which vibrates, if a hair of our heads but...
Página 45 - ... tis an easy matter to pick up sticks enough from any thicket where it has strayed, to make a fire to offer it up with.
Página 138 - I won't trouble you any more.' Then how am I to help you?' 'I didn't ask your help.' Then why come to me?' "Why, indeed!' I echoed. 'Will you let me pass?' 'Not until you tell me where you are going and what you mean to do.' 'Can't you guess?' I cried. And for many seconds we stood staring in each other's eyes. 'Have you got the pluck?' said he, breaking the spell in a tone so cynical that it brought my last drop of blood to the boil. 'You shall see,' said I, as I stepped back and whipped the pistol...
Página 21 - Adieu, poor luckless maiden ! Imbibe the oil and wine which the compassion of a stranger, as he journeyeth on his way, now pours into thy wounds — the Being who has twice bruised thee can only bind them up for ever.

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