The Clifford Family; Or, A Tale of the Old Dominion

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Էջ 82 - A countenance in which did meet Sweet records, promises as sweet; A creature not too bright or good For human nature's daily food, For transient sorrows, simple wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.
Էջ 102 - Set honour in one eye, and death i' the other, And I will look on both indifferently ; For, let the gods so speed me, as I love The name of honour more than I fear death.
Էջ 68 - It's no in titles nor in rank ; It's no in wealth like Lon'on bank, To purchase peace and rest ; It's no in making muckle, mair : It's no in books, it's no in lear, To make us truly blest : If happiness hae not her seat And centre in the breast, We may be wise, or rich, or great, But never can be blest...
Էջ 61 - Clasp me a little longer on the brink Of fate ! while I can feel thy dear caress ; And when this heart hath ceased to beat — oh ! think, And let it mitigate thy woe's excess, That thou hast been to me all tenderness, And friend to more than human friendship just. Oh ! by that retrospect of happiness, And by the hopes of an immortal trust, God shall assuage thy pangs — when I am laid in dust...
Էջ 277 - Tell me not, Sweet, I am unkind That from the nunnery Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind, To war and arms I fly. True, a new mistress now I chase, The first foe in the field; And with a stronger faith embrace A sword, a horse, a shield. Yet this inconstancy is such As you too shall adore; I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honour more.
Էջ 426 - Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thee; for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge; thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God; where thou diest I will die, and there will I be buried; the Lord do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.
Էջ 323 - Of one in whom persuasion and belief Had ripened into faith, and faith become A passionate intuition ; whence the Soul, Though bound to earth by ties of pity and love, From all injurious servitude was free.
Էջ 341 - My days are in the yellow leaf; The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys, Is lone as some volcanic isle; No torch is kindled at its blaze — A funeral pile!
Էջ 242 - Rebellion ! foul, dishonouring word, Whose wrongful blight so oft has stain'd The holiest cause that tongue or sword Of mortal ever lost or gain'd. How many a spirit, born to bless, Hath sunk beneath that withering name, I Whom but a day's, an hour's success Had wafted to eternal fame...
Էջ 44 - A nd will I see his face again ? And will I hear him speak ? I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought, In troth I'm like to greet!

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