The works of the rev. George Herbert, with remarks on his writings, and a sketch of his life, by W. Jerdan

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Routledge, 1853 - Всего страниц: 392
 

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Стр. 102 - The dew shall weep thy fall to-night ; For thou must die. Sweet Rose, whose hue, angry and brave, Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye, Thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die. Sweet Spring, full of sweet days and roses, A box where sweets compacted lie, My music shows ye have your closes, And all must die.
Стр. 244 - I, the unkind, ungrateful ? Ah, my dear ! I cannot look on thee.' Love took my hand, and smiling did reply, 'Who made the eyes but I ?' 'Truth, Lord; but I have marred them; let my shame Go where it doth deserve.
Стр. 263 - Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us: whether prophecy, let us prophesy according to the proportion of faith...
Стр. 59 - WHO says that fictions only and false hair Become a verse ? Is there in truth no beauty ? Is all good structure in a winding stair? . May no lines pass, except they do their duty Not to a true, but painted chair...
Стр. 194 - Which petty thoughts have made, and made to thee Good cable, to enforce and draw And be thy law, While thou didst wink and wouldst not see. Away; take heed: I will abroad. Call in thy death's head there: tie up thy fears. He that forbears To suit and serve his need, Deserves his load.
Стр. 85 - The Sundays of man's life, Threaded together on time's string Make bracelets to adorn the wife Of the eternal glorious King. On Sunday Heaven's gate stands ope Blessings are plentiful and rife, More plentiful than hope.
Стр. 86 - Thou art a day of mirth : And where the week-days trail on ground, Thy flight is higher, as thy birth : O let me take thee at the bound, Leaping with thee from seven to seven, Till that we both, being toss'd from earth, Fly hand in hand to heaven ! AVARICE.
Стр. 84 - The indorsement of supreme delight, Writ by a friend, and with his blood ; The couch of time ; care's balm and bay ; The week were dark, but for thy light. Thy torch doth show the way.
Стр. 22 - Thy power doth cut. Wherefore each part Of my hard heart Meets in this frame, To praise Thy name : That, if I chance to hold my peace, These stones to praise Thee may not cease. O let thy blessed Sacrifice be mine, And sanctify this Altar to be Thine.
Стр. 132 - THE merry world did on a day With his train-bands and mates agree To meet together, where I lay, And all in sport to jeer at me. First, Beauty crept into a Rose ; Which when I pluck'd not, Sir, said she, Tell me, I pray, whose hands are those ? But thou shalt answer, Lord, for me.

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