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Page 400 - What? have ye not houses to eat and to drink in ? or despise ye the church of God, and shame them that have not? What shall I say to you? shall I praise you in this? I praise you not.
Page 420 - Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, And silent rows the songless gondolier; Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, And music meets not always now the ear: Those days are gone — but Beauty still is here. States fall, arts fade — but Nature doth not die, Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, The pleasant place of all festivity, The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
Page 175 - There is a lesson in each flower, A story in each stream and bower ; On every herb on which you tread Are written words which, rightly read, Will lead you from earth's fragrant sod To hope, and holiness, and God.
Page 372 - Among his anecdotes of celebrated English oaks, we were surprised to find Mr. Loudon adopting (at least so we understand him) an apocryphal story about Herne's Oak, given in the lively pages of Mr. Jesse's Gleanings. That gentleman, if he had taken any trouble, might have ascertained that the tree in question was cut down one morning, by order of King George III., when in a state of great, but transient, excitement; the circumstance caused much regret and astonishment at the time, and was commented...
Page 23 - Tis not in battles that from youth we train The Governor who must be wise and good, And temper with the sternness of the brain Thoughts motherly, and meek as womanhood. Wisdom doth live with children round her knees : Books, leisure, perfect freedom, and the talk Man holds with week-day man in the hourly walk Of the mind's business : these are the degrees By which true Sway doth mount ; this is the stalk True Power doth grow on ; and her rights are these.
Page 373 - There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter, Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, Doth all the winter time, at still midnight, Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns ; And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle; And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a chain In a most hideous and dreadful manner...
Page 63 - Had I but a commission in my pocket, I fancy my breeches would become me as well as any ranting fellow of 'em all, for I take a bold step, a rakish toss, a smart cock, and an impudent air to be the principal ingredients in the composition of a captain.
Page 68 - While the historian of the Irish stage contributes his testimony in her favour : " To her honour be it ever remembered, that, whilst in the zenith of her glory, courted and caressed by all ranks and degrees, it made no alteration in her behaviour ; she remained the same gay, affable, obliging, good-natured Woffington to every one around her.
Page 175 - Mistaken long, I sought you then In busy companies of men. Your sacred plants, if here below, Only among the plants will grow; Society is all but rude 15 To this delicious solitude. No white nor red was ever seen So amorous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress
Page 52 - I have seen a substance excellently adapted to the purpose of wiping from paper the marks of a black lead pencil.