De Vere: Or, The Man of Independence, Volume 1

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Carey, Lea, and Carey, 1827 - English fiction - 325 pages
 

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Page 132 - Near yonder copse, where once the garden smiled, And still where many a garden flower grows wild ; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year ; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had changed, nor wished to change his place...
Page 197 - And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself, But such a sacred and home-felt delight, Such sober certainty of waking bliss, I never heard till now.
Page 77 - Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, Nor in the glistering foil Set off to the world, nor in broad rumour lies, But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes And perfect witness of all-judging Jove; As he pronounces lastly on each deed, Of so much fame in heaven expect thy meed.
Page 110 - An't please your honour," quoth the peasant: "This same dessert is not so pleasant: Give me again my hollow tree, .A crust of bread, and liberty !
Page 244 - In sooth, I know not why I am so sad : It wearies me ; you say it wearies you ; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn ; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me. That I have much ado to know myself.
Page 32 - I met a fool i' the forest, A motley fool ;• — a miserable world ! — As I do live by food, I met a fool ; Who laid him down and basked him in the sun, And railed on lady Fortune in good terms, In good set terms, — and yet a motley fool. Good morrow, fool, quoth I. No, sir...
Page 76 - So experience has taught me, how wrong, unjust, and senseless, party factions are ; therefore I am determined never wholly to believe any side or party against the other...
Page 218 - What late he call'da blessing* now was wit, And God's good providence a lucky hit. Things change their titles as our manners turn, His counting-house employ'd the Sunday morn: Seldom at church ('twas such a busy life), But duly sent his family and wife.
Page 239 - O'er the smooth enamelled green, Where no print of step hath been, Follow me, as I sing And touch the warbled string: Under the shady roof Of branching elm star-proof Follow me. I will bring you where she sits, Clad in splendour as befits Her deity. Such a rural Queen All Arcadia hath not seen.
Page 28 - ... suspicions lest he should be smiling at you. There was a meaning in his look that made you afraid ; although an otherwise open, intelligent physiognomy, spite of uncouthness, disposed you both to trust and like him, if he would let you. When he shook hands with you, he kept you at arm's length, and seemingly retiring from the ceremony, as if afraid of too much familiarity, or as if he said with Jaques, " God be with you, let's meet as little as we can.

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