Old Myddelton's Money: A Novel

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Hurst and Blackett, 1875 - 135 Seiten

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Seite 45 - I do not love thee, Doctor Fell, The reason why I cannot tell ; But this alone I know full well, I do not love thee, Doctor Fell.* 1 Sec Proverbial Expressions.
Seite 361 - And I smiled to think God's greatness flowed around our incompleteness, — Round our restlessness, His rest.
Seite 217 - Have you marked but the fall of the snow, Before the soil hath smutched it ? Have you felt the wool of the beaver, Or swan's down ever ? Or have smelt o' the bud o' the brier ? Or the nard in the fire ? Or have tasted the bag of the bee ? O so white ! O so soft ! O so sweet is she ! n.
Seite 217 - Have you seen but a bright lily grow Before rude hands have touched it...
Seite 217 - SEE the chariot at hand here of Love Wherein my lady rideth! Each that draws, is a swan, or a dove, And well the car Love guideth. As she goes, all hearts do duty Unto her beauty; And enamoured, do wish, so they might But enjoy such a sight, That they still were, to run by her side, Through swords, through seas, whither she would ride.
Seite 332 - A more glorious victory cannot be gained over another man, than this, that when the injury began on his part, the kindness should begin on ours.
Seite 118 - Love he comes and Love he tarries Just as fate or fancy carries ; Longest stays, when sorest chidden ; Laughs and flies, when pressed and bidden.
Seite 204 - Lay their bulwarks on the brine ; While the sign of battle flew On the lofty British line : It was ten of April morn by the chime. As they drifted on their path, There was silence deep as death, And the boldest held his breath For a time. But the might of England flushed To anticipate the scene, And her van the fleeter rushed O'er the deadly space between. "Hearts of oak!
Seite 69 - For he that fights and runs away May live to fight another day, But he that is in battle slain Will never rise to fight again.
Seite 97 - And Margaret my feare. That I spent, that I had : That I gave, that I have ; That I left, that I lost. AD 1579. — ' Quoth Robertas Byrks, who in this world did reign threescore years and seven, and yet lived not one.

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