Angela, by the author of 'Emilia Wyndham'.

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Page 334 - PACK, clouds, away, and welcome day, With night we banish sorrow; Sweet air blow soft, mount larks aloft To give my Love good-morrow! Wings from the wind to please her mind Notes from the lark I'll borrow; Bird, prune thy wing, nightingale sing, To give my Love good-morrow; To give my Love good-morrow Notes from them both I'll borrow.
Page 215 - Must call thee so, the rich affection's store That fed our hopes lies now exhaust and spent, Like sums of treasure unto bankrupts lent. We that did nothing study but the way To love each other, with which thoughts the day Rose with delight to us, and with them set, Must learn the hateful art how to forget.
Page 239 - However they admired some ministers, they all loved him ; and saw exemplified in him that wisdom which is from above, — which is first pure, then peaceable, gentle and easy to be entreated, full of mercy and good fruits, without partiality, and without hypocrisy.
Page 241 - That time of year thou mayst in me behold When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang Upon those boughs which shake against the cold, Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang. In me thou see'st the twilight of such day As after sunset fadeth in the west, Which by and by black night doth take away, Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
Page 149 - How ill this taper burns ! Ha ! who comes here ? I think it is the weakness of mine eyes That shapes this monstrous apparition.
Page 137 - O, that a man might know The end of this day's business, ere it come ! But it sufficeth, that the day will end, And then the end is known.
Page 152 - ... robed like some angel, as it appeared to him, — for his eyes were dazzled as with a sudden radiance — it was as if bright rays of light were shining all around her. His poor head is swimming — he knows not what he sees. But she ! A faint shriek ! A faint cry ! An impassioned rush forwards ! "Carteret! Carteret!
Page 277 - Dwelt in thy cell : Lifting alike thy head Of placid beauty, feminine yet free, Whether with foam or pictured azure spread The waters be. What is like thee, fair flower, The gentle and the firm ? thus bearing up To the blue sky that alabaster cup, As to the shower...
Page 1 - And wood or steepy mountain yield. There will we sit upon the rocks And see the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. There will I make thee beds of roses And...

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