The Busy-bodies: A Novel, Volum 1

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Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green, 1827 - 1050 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 162 - FRIEND after friend departs : Who hath not lost a friend? There is no union here of hearts That finds not here an end: Were this frail world our final rest, Living or dying, none were blest.
Pàgina 74 - Ah ! then and there was hurrying to and fro, And gathering tears and tremblings of distress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago Blush'd at the praise of their own loveliness; And there were sudden partings, such as press The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs Which ne'er might be repeated...
Pàgina 10 - I LOVED thee once; I'll love no more, — Thine be the grief as is the blame; Thou art not what thou wast before, What reason I should be the same? He that can love unloved again, Hath better store of love than brain: God send me love my debts to pay, While unthrifts fool their love away!
Pàgina 77 - How sweet the answer Echo makes To music at night, When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes, And far away, o'er lawns and lakes, Goes answering light. Yet Love hath echoes truer far, And far more sweet, Than e'er beneath the moonlight's star, Of horn or lute, or soft guitar, The songs repeat. 'Tis when the sigh, in youth sincere, And only then, — The sigh that's breath'd for one to hear, Is by that one, that only dear, Breathed back again ! OH BANQUET NOT.
Pàgina 252 - Good people all of every sort, Give ear unto my song, And if you find it wondrous short It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be...
Pàgina 262 - Sweet kerchief, checked with heavenly blue, Which once my love sat knotting in ! — Alas! Matilda then was true! At least I thought so at the U — ,0 — niversity of Gottingen — — niversity of Gottingen.
Pàgina 176 - Lose not time to contradict her, Nor endeavour to convict her. Never take it in your thought, That she'll own, or cure a fault. Into contradiction warm her, Then, perhaps, you may reform...
Pàgina 27 - E'en now, how dearly do I feel there may ! But what of them ? they are not made for me — The hasty flashes of contending steel Must serve instead of glances from my love, And for soft breathing sighs the cannon's roar.
Pàgina 170 - Oh, cease to weep ! this storm will yet decay, And the sad clouds of sorrow melt away : While through the rugged path of life we go, All mortals taste the bitter draught of woe.
Pàgina 203 - I cannot talk with civet in the room, A fine puss gentleman that's all perfume ; The sight's enough — no need to smell a beau — Who thrusts his nose into a rareeshow?

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