The Knight's Ransom

Ön Kapak
Warne, 1870 - 471 sayfa
 

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Popüler pasajlar

Sayfa 192 - And every one that hath forsaken houses, or brethren, or sisters, or father, or mother, or wife, or children, or lands, for my name's sake, shall receive an hundredfold, and shall inherit everlasting life.
Sayfa 451 - ... Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts ; Into a thousand parts divide one man, And make imaginary puissance : Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i...
Sayfa 303 - What years, i' faith ? Vio. About your years, my lord. Duke. Too old, by heaven; let still the woman take An elder than herself ; so wears she to him, So sways she level in her husband's heart. For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn, Than women's are.
Sayfa 158 - ... there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough hew them how we will.
Sayfa 453 - Noble madam, Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water.
Sayfa 446 - Her tears fell with the dews at even; Her tears fell ere the dews were dried; She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She drew her casement-curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. She only said, 'The night is dreary, He cometh not,' she said; She said, 'I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!
Sayfa 76 - TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go." " Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom.
Sayfa 148 - Can such things be, And overcome us like a summer's cloud, Without our special wonder?
Sayfa 107 - And on his breast a bloody cross he bore, The dear remembrance of his dying Lord. For whose sweet sake that glorious badge he wore, And dead (as living) ever him adored: Upon his shield the like was also scored, For sovereign hope, which in his help he had...
Sayfa 282 - O, that the slave had forty thousand lives ! One is too poor, too weak for my revenge. Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, lago ; All my fond love thus do I blow to heaven : 'Tis gone. Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell ! Yield up, O love, thy crown and hearted throne To tyrannous hate ! Swell, bosom, with thy fraught, For 'tis of aspics

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