The Works of Charles and Mary Lamb: Miscellaneous prose, 1798-1834

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Methuen & Company, 1903
 

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Seite 371 - No matter where; of comfort no man speak. Let's talk of graves, of worms and epitaphs; Make dust our paper and with rainy eyes Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Seite 547 - The sun had long since, in the lap Of Thetis, taken out his nap, And like a lobster boiled, the morn From black to red began to turn...
Seite 474 - Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan...
Seite 505 - I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made : marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.
Seite 224 - Swinging slow with sullen roar; Or if the air will not permit, Some still removed place will fit, Where glowing embers through the room Teach light to counterfeit a gloom, Far from all resort of mirth, Save the cricket on the hearth, Or the bellman's drowsy charm To bless the doors from nightly harm.
Seite 202 - Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, And diamonded with panes of quaint device, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, As are the tiger-moth's deep-damask'd wings; And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries, And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings, A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings.
Seite 90 - Ye have the account Of my performance : what remains, ye gods ! But up, and enter now into full bliss ?" So having said, a while he stood, expecting Their universal shout, and high applause, To fill his ear ; when, contrary, he hears On all sides, from innumerable tongues, A dismal universal hiss, the sound Of public scorn...
Seite 202 - Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast, As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon; Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, 220 And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'da splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven : — Porphyro grew faint : She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.
Seite 372 - I'll give my jewels for a set of beads, My gorgeous palace for a hermitage, My gay apparel for an almsman's gown, My...
Seite 372 - And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. For God's sake let us sit upon the ground...

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