Laighton manor house; or, Love and its shadows

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Página 452 - Man, that is born of a woman, hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down, like a flower ; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay. In the midst of life we are in death : of whom may we seek for succour, but of thee, O Lord, who for our sins art justly displeased...
Página 197 - Rejoice, O young man in thy youth ; and let thy heart cheer thee in the days of thy youth, and walk in the ways of thine heart, and in the sight of thine eyes ; but know thou, that for all these things God will bring thee into judgment.
Página 274 - The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom'd trees, And fields which promise corn and wine, And scatter'd cities crowning these, Whose far white walls along them shine, Have strew'da scene, which I should see With double joy wert thou with me.
Página 103 - MAID of my Love, sweet GENEVIEVE! In Beauty's light you glide along : Your eye is like the star of eve, And sweet your Voice, as Seraph's song. Yet not your heavenly Beauty gives This heart with passion soft to glow : Within your soul a VOICE there lives ! It bids you hear the tale of Woe. When sinking low the Sufferer wan Beholds no hand outstretcht to save, Fair, as the bosom of the Swan That rises graceful o'er the wave, I've seen your breast with pity heave, And therefore love I you, sweet GENEVIEVE...
Página 103 - Beauty's light you glide along : Your eye is like the star of eve, And sweet your Voice, as Seraph's song. Yet not your heavenly Beauty gives This heart with passion soft to glow : Within your soul a Voice there lives ! It bid,s you hear the tale of Woe. When sinking low the Sufferer wan Beholds no hand outstretched to save, Fair, as the bosom of the Swan That rises graceful o'er .the wave, I've seen your breast with pity heave, And therefore love I you, sweet Genevieve ! THE RAVEN.
Página 490 - Who ne'er his bread in sorrow ate, Who ne'er the mournful midnight hours Weeping upon his bed has sate, He knows you not, ye Heavenly Powers.
Página 477 - The bleak wind of March Made her tremble and shiver; But not the dark arch, Or the black flowing river; Mad from life's history, Glad to death's mystery Swift to be hurled— Anywhere, anywhere Out of the world...
Página 109 - And inasmuch as ye have done it to one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me...
Página 475 - And I think how many thousands Of care-encumbered men, Each bearing his burden of sorrow, Have crossed the bridge since then. I see the long procession Still passing to and fro, The young heart hot and restless, And the old subdued and slow...
Página 467 - Weep not for broad lands lost ; Weep not for fair hopes crossed ; Weep not when limbs wax old ; Weep not when friends grow cold ; Weep not, that death must part Thine and the best-loved heart : Yet weep — weep all thou can — Weep, weep, because thou art A sin-defiled man.

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