The Five Gateways of Knowledge

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Macmillan, 1880 - 127 pages
 

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Page 96 - The forward violet thus did I chide: Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells, If not from my love's breath?
Page 92 - Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say, At some hours in the night spirits resort: Alack, alack! is it not like that I, So early waking, what with loathsome smells, And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth, That living mortals, hearing them, run mad: O!
Page 93 - DUKE'S PALACE. [Enter DUKE, CURIO, LORDS; MUSICIANS attending.] DUKE. If music be the food of love, play on, Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting, The appetite may sicken and so die.— That strain again;— it had a dying fall; O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, That breathes upon a bank of violets, Stealing and giving odour.— Enough; no more; 'Tis not so sweet now as it was before.
Page 91 - Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand.
Page 48 - Singing of Mount Abora. Could I revive within me Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome!
Page 98 - For from the rising of the sun even unto the going down of the same, my name shall be great among the gentiles, and in every place incense shall be offered unto my name, and a pure offering: for my name shall be great among the heathen, saith the Lord of hosts.
Page 96 - And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath ; But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth A vengeful canker eat him up to death. More flowers I noted, yet I none could see But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.
Page 99 - And another angel came and stood at the altar, having a golden censer, and there was given unto him much incense, that he should offer it with the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, which came with the prayers of the saints, ascended up before God out of the angel's hand.
Page 18 - There the blackbird bigs his nest For the mate he lo'es to see, And on the topmost bough, O, a happy bird is he! Then he pours his melting ditty, And love is a' the theme, And he'll woo his bonnie lassie When the kye comes hame.
Page 94 - And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it comes and goes, like the warbling of music,) than in the hand, therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air.

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