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Acheul admire affection ancient Augustin beauty brother called cause character Chaucer child childhood and youth children and youth Children's Bower Christ Christian Church Cicero common conversation Cratylus death Divine Duc de Saint-Simon elders eyes fact faith fear feel genius Gorgias grave grown-up happy hear heard heart heaven holy honour human humble humility innocence instance instinct Justus and Pastor kind Lactantius laugh least lesson little John living look Lord Brougham Louis XIV mature mind mystic theology nature Neuville never noble observe pass passion perhaps persons philosophers Picus of Mirandula piety Plato poet poor pray prayer pride racter regard religion religious remarks reply respect Ruskin Saint-Simon says St seems sense smile soul speak spirit Stones of Venice sweet Tacitus talk tell thing thought tion true truth virtues wisdom wise wish words young
Стр. 240 - THERE is no flock, however watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there ! There is no fireside, howsoe'er defended, But has one vacant chair ! The air is full of farewells to the dying, And mournings for the dead ; The heart of Rachel, for her children crying, Will not be comforted...
Стр. 233 - I shall do so ; But I must also feel it as a man : I cannot but remember such things were , That were most precious to me. — Did heaven look on , And would not take their part? Sinful Macduff ! They were all struck for thee. Naught that I am , Not for their own demerits , but for mine , Fell slaughter on their souls.
Стр. 260 - He, the more fortunate ! yea, he hath finished ! For him there is no longer any future, His life is bright — bright without spot it was And cannot cease to be. No ominous hour Knocks at his door 'with tidings of mishap. Far off is he, above desire and fear ; No more submitted to the change and chance Of the unsteady planets. O 'tis well With him ! but who knows what the coming hour Veil'd in thick darkness brings for us ! Coun.
Стр. 264 - Cold is thy brow, my son ! and I am chill. As to my bosom I have tried to press thee How was I wont to feel my pulses thrill, Like a rich harp-string, yearning to caress thee, And hear thy sweet ' My father ! ' from these dumb And cold lips, Absalom ! The grave hath won thee.
Стр. 289 - Implored your highness' pardon and set forth A deep repentance: nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he owed As 'twere a careless trifle.
Стр. 271 - Yet grieve thou not, nor think thy youth is gone, Nor deem that glorious season e'er could die. Thy pleasant youth, a little while withdrawn, Waits on the horizon of a brighter sky ; Waits, like the morn, that folds her wing...
Стр. 26 - Sound needed none, Nor any voice of joy ; his spirit drank The spectacle: sensation, soul, and form, All melted into him; they swallowed up His animal being ; in them did he live, And by them did he live; they were his life. In such access of mind, in such high hour Of visitation from the living God, Thought was not ; in enjoyment it expired.
Стр. 115 - COME back to your mother, ye children, for shame, Who have wandered like truants, for riches or fame ! With a smile on her face, and a sprig in her cap, She calls you to feast from her bountiful lap.
Стр. 216 - And yet it is not in his play, When every trace of thought is lost, And not when you would call him gay, That his bright presence thrills me most.