Letters to Dead Authors

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C. Scribner's sons, 1893 - 253 страница

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Страница 176 - Had we never loved sae kindly, Had we never loved sae blindly, Never met, or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted.
Страница 197 - But to go away from among men, if there are gods, is not a thing to be afraid of, for the gods will not involve thee in evil ; but if indeed they do not exist, or if they have no concern about human affairs, what is it to me to live in a universe devoid of gods or devoid of providence...
Страница 176 - A fig for those by law protected! Liberty's a glorious feast! Courts for cowards were erected. Churches built to please the priest.
Страница 122 - The harshness of his criticisms, I have never attributed to anything but the irritation of a sensitive nature, chafed by some indefinite sense of wrong.
Страница 115 - What though the music of thy rustic flute Kept not for long its happy, country tone ; Lost it too soon, and learnt a stormy note Of men contention-tost, of men who groan, Which task'd thy pipe too sore, and tired thy throat — It fail'd, and thou wast mute ! Yet hadst thou alway visions of our light...
Страница 80 - Happy old man ! — whose worth all mankind knows Except himself, who charitably shows The ready road to virtue and to praise, The road to many long and happy days ; The noble...
Страница 200 - Fertur pudicae coniugis osculum Parvosque natos ut capitis minor Ab se removisse et virilem Torvus humi posuisse voltum, Donec labantes consilio patres 45 Firmaret auctor numquam alias dato, Interque maerentes amicos Egregius properaret exsul.
Страница 68 - It certainly is a most iniquitous affair,' said Mr Bennet, 'and nothing can clear Mr Collins from the guilt of inheriting Longbourn. But if you will listen to his letter, you may perhaps be a little softened by his manner of expressing himself...
Страница 198 - What joy there is in these songs ! what delight of life, what an exquisite Hellenic grace of art, what a manly nature to endure, what tenderness and constancy of friendship, what a sense of all that is fair in the glittering stream, the music of the waterfall, the hum of bees, the silvery gray of the olive woods on the hillside ! How human are all your verses, Horace ! what a pleasure is yours in the straining poplars, swaying in the wind! what gladness you gain from the white crest of Soracte, beheld...
Страница 80 - And gie to us the cheerfu' burn That steals into its valley fair — The streamlets that at ilka turn Sae saftly meet an mingle there. cauldrife, chilly creel, basket The lanesome Talla and the Lyne, An' Manor wi' its mountain rills, An' Etterick, whose waters twine Wi' Yarrow frae the Forest hills ; An' Gala too, and Teviot bright, An' mony a stream o' playfu' speed ; Their kindred valleys a' unite Amang the braes o

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