Reginald Trevor, or, The Welsh loyalists

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Seite 88 - I saw young Harry, with his beaver on, His cuisses on his thighs, gallantly arm'd, Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, And vaulted with such ease into his seat As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, And witch the world with noble horsemanship.
Seite 238 - Melt into morn, and Light awakes the world; Man has another day to swell the past, And lead him near to little, but his last; But mighty nature bounds as from her birth, The sun is in the heavens, and life on earth; Flowers in the valley, splendour in the beam, Health on the gale, and freshness in the stream. Immortal man! behold her glories shine, And cry, exulting inly, "they are thine!
Seite 205 - As monumental bronze unchanged his look : A soul that pity touch'd, but never shook : Train'd from his tree-rock'd cradle to his bier, The fierce extremes of good and ill to brook Impassive — fearing but the shame of fear — A stoic of the woods — a man without a tear.
Seite vii - God send thee good passage, And specially let this be thy prayere, Unto them all that thee will read or hear, Where thou art wrong, after their help to call, Thee to correct in any part or all.
Seite 79 - It were all one, That I should love a bright particular star, And think to wed it, he is so above me: In his bright radiance and collateral light Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
Seite 233 - He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who dares not put it to the touch, To win or lose it all.
Seite 138 - TELL me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field ; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, Dear, so much, Loved I not Honour more.
Seite 201 - She moved upon this earth a shape of brightness, A power that from its objects scarcely drew One impulse of her being — in her lightness Most like some radiant cloud of morning dew Which wanders through the waste air's pathless blue To nourish some far desert ; she did seem, Beside me, gathering beauty as she grew, Like the bright shade of some immortal dream Which walks when tempest sleeps the wave of life's dark stream.
Seite 233 - Witch. WHEN shall we three meet again, In thunder, lightning, or in rain ? 2 Witch.
Seite 74 - Romance, 3 vols 0 18 0 Rank and Fashion, or the Mazes of Life, by Mr. Frere, 3 vols 0 18 0 The Accomplished Hypocrite, or Brass glitters more than Gold, a Novel, by AD 2 vols...

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