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Стр. 243 - Heaven from all creatures hides the book of Fate, All but the page prescribed, their present state: From brutes what men, from men what spirits know: Or who could suffer being here below? The lamb thy riot dooms to bleed to-day, Had he thy reason, would he skip and play? Pleased to the last, he crops the flowery food, And licks the hand just raised to shed his blood.
Стр. 33 - My sprightly neighbor ! gone before To that unknown and silent shore, Shall we not meet, as heretofore, Some summer morning, When from thy cheerful eyes a ray Hath struck a bliss upon the day, A bliss that would not go away, A sweet fore-warning ? TO CHARLES LLOYD.
Стр. 32 - HESTER When maidens such as Hester die, Their place ye may not well supply, Though ye among a thousand try, With vain endeavour. A month or more hath she been dead,. Yet cannot I by force be led To think upon the wormy bed, And her together. A springy motion in her gait, , ; ' A rising step, did indicate Of pride and joy no commdn rate, ; That flushed her spirit.
Стр. 25 - THE OLD FAMILIAR FACES. I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days, All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. I have been laughing, I have been carousing, Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies, All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
Стр. 127 - SATAN IN SEARCH OF A WIFE With the Whole Process of his Courtship and Marriage, and who Danced at the Wedding By an Eye Witness...
Стр. 83 - EMINENT COMPOSERS. SOME cry up Haydn, some Mozart, Just as the whim bites ; for my part, I do not care a farthing candle For either of them, or for Handel.
Стр. 322 - ... days, Coleridge, of a mother's fondness for her school-boy. What would I give to call her back to earth for one day, on my knees to ask her pardon for all those little asperities of temper which, from time to time, have given her gentle spirit pain; and the day, my friend, I trust, will Come; there will be "time enough" for kind offices of love, if "Heaven's eternal year
Стр. 313 - Poems, by ST Coleridge. Second edition — to which are now added Poems by Charles Lamb and Charles Lloyd.
Стр. 4 - Mutter'd to wretch by necromantic spell; Or of those hags, who at the witching time Of murky midnight ride the air sublime, And mingle foul embrace with fiends of hell: Cold horror drinks its blood ! Anon the tear More gentle starts, to hear the beldame tell Of pretty babes, that loved each other dear, Murder'd by cruel uncle's mandate fell: Even such the shivering joys thy tones impart, Even so thou, Siddons ! meltest my sad heart...
Стр. 54 - For darker closets of the tomb ! She did but ope an eye, and put A clear beam forth, then straight up shut For the long dark : ne'er more to see Through glasses of mortality. Riddle of destiny, who can show What thy short visit meant, or know What thy errand here below ? Shall we say, that Nature blind...

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