Mary Rich, Countess of Warwick (1625-1678)

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J. M. Dent, 1901 - 323 pÓgines
 

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PÓgina 191 - Come, pensive nun, devout and pure, Sober, steadfast, and demure, All in a robe of darkest grain, Flowing with majestic train, And sable stole of cypress lawn Over thy decent shoulders drawn. Come, but keep thy wonted state, With even step and musing gait And looks commercing with the skies, Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes...
PÓgina 170 - Wherewithal shall a young man cleanse his way ? by taking heed thereto according to thy word.
PÓgina 225 - With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend.
PÓgina 155 - And Samson said, Let me die with the Philistines. And he bowed himself with all his might; and the house fell upon the lords, and upon all the people that were therein. So the dead which he slew at his death were more than they which he slew in his life.
PÓgina 223 - God grant mine eyes may never behold the like, who now saw above 10,000 houses all in one flame ! The noise and cracking and thunder of the impetuous flames, the shrieking of women and children, the hurry of people, the fall of towers, houses, and churches...
PÓgina 217 - With my soul have I desired Thee in the night ; yea, with my spirit within me will I seek Thee early : for when Thy judgments are in the earth, the inhabitants of the world wilt learn righteousness.
PÓgina 223 - We staid till, it being darkish, we saw the fire as only one entire arch of fire from this to the other side the bridge, and in a bow up the hill for an arch of above a mile long: it made me weep to see it.
PÓgina 174 - Be wise, then, my friends, and reasonable: give neither sleep to your eyes, nor slumber to your eyelids, till you have resolved, on your knees before God, to forget Him no more.
PÓgina 194 - Once they were mourning here below, And wet their couch with tears; They wrestled hard, as we do now, With sins, and doubts, and fears.
PÓgina 13 - Dear, harmless age! the short, swift span Where weeping Virtue parts with man; Where love without lust dwells, and bends What way we please without self-ends. An age of mysteries! which he Must live twice that would God's face see; Which angels guard, and with it play, Angels! which foul men drive away.

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