The refusal, by the author of the Tale of the times, 2. köide

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Page 193 - Omnipotent might send him forth, In sight of mortal and immortal powers, As on a boundless theatre, to run The great career of justice ; to exalt His generous aim to all diviner deeds ; To chase each partial purpose from his breast ; And through the mists of passion and of sense, And through the tossing tide of chance and pain, To hold his course unfaltering...
Page 1 - A pleasing land of drowsy-head it was, Of dreams that wave before the half-shut eye ; And of gay castles in the clouds that pass, For ever flushing round a summer sky...
Page 302 - Men are but children of a larger growth; Our appetites as apt to change as theirs, And full as craving too, and full as vain ; And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room, Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing: But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind, Works all her folly up, and casts it outward To the world's open view...
Page 71 - Ah come not, write not, think not once of me, Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!) Long lov'd, ador'd ideas!
Page 127 - Where beauty seems to dwell, nor once inquire Where is the sanction of eternal truth, Or where the seal of undeceitful good, To save your search from folly ! Wanting these, Lo ! beauty withers in your void embrace, And with the glittering of an idiot's toy Did fancy mock your vows.
Page 51 - Far from their native aim ; as if to lie Inglorious in the fragrant shade, and wait The soft access of ever-circling joys, Were all the end of being.
Page 193 - Amid the vast creation ; why ordain'd Through life and death to dart his piercing eye, With thoughts beyond the limit of his frame ; But that the Omnipotent might send him forth In sight of mortal and immortal powers, As on a boundless theatre, to run The great career of justice...
Page 344 - And strewed him with flowers as frail and sweet. My kindred are dead, my love is fled ; Courage, my heart, thou canst love no more ; Pale is my cheek, my body is weak ; Courage, my heart, 'twill soon be o'er. Dim are my eyes, with tears of sorrow ; They ache for a night, without a morrow.
Page 354 - Tis true, I have a heart disdains your coldness, And prompts me not to seek what you should offer; But a wife's virtue still surmounts that pride. I come to claim you as my own; to show My duty first; to ask, nay beg, your kindness: Your hand, my lord; 'tis mine, and I will have it.
Page 214 - Away ! no woman could descend so low : A skipping, dancing, worthless tribe you are ; Fit only for yourselves : you herd together ; And when the circling glass warms your vain hearts, You talk of beauties that you never saw, And fancy raptures that you never knew.

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