Lawrie Todd: Or, The Settlers in the Woods, المجلد 3

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H. Colburn and R. Bently, 1830 - 336 من الصفحات

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الصفحة 202 - If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, let my right hand forget her cunning. If I do not remember thee, let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth...
الصفحة 249 - I see, men's judgments are A parcel of their fortunes ; and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them, To suffer all alike.
الصفحة 37 - Will no one tell me what she sings? Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow For old, unhappy, far-off things, And battles long ago: Or is it some more humble lay, Familiar matter of to-day? Some natural sorrow, loss, or pain, That has been, and may be again!
الصفحة 266 - ... the skirt of thy robe in my hand : for in that I cut off the skirt of thy robe, and killed thee not, know thou and see that there is neither evil nor transgression in mine hand, and I have not sinned against thee; yet thou huntest my soul to take it, The LORD judge between me and thee, and the LORD avenge me of thee : but mine hand shall not be upon thee.
الصفحة 276 - Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults, To give in evidence. What then ? what rests ? Try what repentance can : what can it not ? Yet what can it, when one...
الصفحة 117 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do, Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
الصفحة 167 - Noblest of men, woo't die ? Hast thou no care of me ? shall I abide In this dull world, which in thy absence is No better than a sty ? O, see, my women, [Antony dies. The crown o
الصفحة 56 - On the budding elms the birds are singing, And up — up — up to the gates of heaven Mounts the lark, on the wings of her rapture driven ; The voice of the streamlet is fresh and loud ; On the sky there is not a speck of cloud : Come hither, come hither, and join with me In the season's delightful jubilee...
الصفحة 47 - Is it a party in a parlour, Crammed just as they on earth were crammed, Some sipping punch — some sipping tea, But, as you by their faces see, All silent, and all damned ! Peter Bell, by W.

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