Who is the heir?, Volume 3

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J. Maxwell, 1865
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Page 149 - This guest of summer, The temple-haunting martlet, does approve By his loved mansionry that the heaven's breath Smells wooingly here : no jutty, frieze, Buttress, nor coign of vantage, but this bird Hath made his pendent bed and procreant cradle : Where they most breed and haunt, I have observed The air is delicate.
Page 79 - The devil was sick, the devil a monk would be ; The devil was well, the devil a monk was he.
Page 125 - All sad, all silent ! O'er the ear No sound of cheerful toil is swelling. Earth has no quickening spirit here, Nature no charm, and man no dwelling ! " Not less admirably has he described a Roman beauty ; such as " weaves her spells beyond the Tiber." " Methinks the Furies with their snakes, Or Venus with her zone, might gird her ; Of fiend and goddess she partakes, And looks at once both Love and Murder.
Page 103 - I had better said, the blasphemy — resolved to create the human race, he took into his hands a mass of earth, the same whence all mankind were to be formed, and in which they after a manner pre-existed ; and, having then divided the clod into two equal portions, he threw the one half into hell, saying, 'These to eternal fire, and I care not ' ; and projected the other half into heaven, adding, ' And these to paradise, and I care not.
Page 120 - To my ninth decade I have totter'd on, And no soft arm bends now my steps to steady; She, who once led me where she would, is gone, So when he calls me, Death shall find me ready.
Page 152 - I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech ; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale 1 teach.
Page 98 - I wish that I could run away From House, and Court, and Levee, Where bearded men appear to-day Just Eton boys grown heavy, — That I could bask in childhood's sun And dance o'er childhood's roses, And find huge wealth in one pound one, Vast wit...
Page 238 - And see ! the lady Christabel Gathers herself from out her trance; Her limbs relax, her countenance Grows sad and soft; the smooth thin lids Close o'er her eyes; and tears she sheds — Large tears that leave the lashes bright...
Page 17 - unting that 'urts the 'orses' 'oofs, but the 'ammer, 'ammer, 'ammer, on the 'ard 'igh road !" However, we who love to follow his stag-hounds through the Vale of Aylesbury may forgive him for riding badly. Baron Lionel usually takes the command of the hounds on Thursdays. He has struck out a thoroughly original way of getting comfortably across country. Half-a-dozen grooms in black coats VOL.
Page 233 - The tricksy sprite did erst assist At hushed Verona's moonlight tryst ; Sweet Capulet ! thou wert not kissed By light winds only. I miss the simple days of yore, When two long braids of hair you wore, And chat botte was wondered o'er, In corner cosy.

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