St. Johnstoun: Or, John, Earl of Gowrie, Volume 3

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Maclachlan and Stewart, 1823 - Gowrie Conspiracy, 1600

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Page 111 - O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear wife! Thou know'st that Banquo, and his Fleance, lives. Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not eterne. Macb. There's comfort yet, they are assailable; Then be thou jocund: ere the bat hath flown His cloister'd flight; ere to black Hecate's summons The shard-borne beetle with his drowsy hums Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note.
Page 164 - O that my head were waters, and mine eyes fountains of tears, that I might weep day and night, for the slain of the daughter of my people!
Page 191 - Shall reach the glad heart, and appal it with dread ? Know ye the land of the spirit of peace, Where the joys never lessen, the hymns never cease ; Where the friends of our bosom, here lost in the tomb, Shall meet us again, ever freed from its gloom ; Where the hearts, now divided, united shall rest, And be healed of their woes in the bowers of the blest , Where the tear shall not quench the bright beam of the eye, Where hopes here destroyed, meet fruition on high, And...
Page 62 - I could not bear To leave thee in the neighbourhood of death, But flew, in all the haste of love, to find thee : I found thee weeping, and confess this once, Am rapt with joy to see my Marcia's tears.
Page 177 - ... zeal. My words were echoes of the public voice, Which daily rises, with repeated cries Of high complaint against this haughty lord. I pity, from my heart, his rash attempts,
Page 1 - Love is, or ought to be, our greatest bliss; Since every other joy, how dear soever, Gives way to that, and we leave all for love.
Page 131 - The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; The most arch-deed of piteous massacre, That ever yet this land was guilty of. Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless butchery, Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. [babes !"
Page 89 - Oh, think what anxious moments pass between The birth of plots, and their last fatal periods! Oh, 'tis a dreadful interval of time, Fill'd up with horror all, and big with death...
Page 191 - HOME OF THE BLEST. Know ye the land, where no pain and no sorrow Shall darken the brow, or bow down the head, Where no grief of today, and no thought of tomorrow, Shall reach the glad heart, and...
Page 191 - ... appal it with dread ? Know ye the land of the spirit of peace, Where the joys never lessen, the hymns never cease ; Where the friends of our bosom, here lost in the tomb, Shall meet us again, ever freed from its gloom ; Where the hearts, now divided, united shall rest, And be healed of their woes in the bowers of the blest , Where the tear shall not quench the bright beam of the eye, Where hopes here destroyed, meet fruition on high, And spirits with spirits iu love only vie ; Where the mom shall...

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