The Complete Poems of Robert Southwellprivate circulation, 1872 - 232 من الصفحات |
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Addl angells atque awaye babe blisse bredd brest Catholic Christ death doth earth edition Epistle eyes farre Father Southwell feare floure flye Fortune's frende Funerall Teares gift grace greife grone hæc hart hath haue heaven heavenly Jesus College joyes lett light liue live Lord losse loue Mæoniæ Mary Magdalen's Memorial-Introduction mihi misreads mortall mynde Nature's NOTES AND ILLUSTRATIONS nunc pangues payne Peter's Complaint plaints poem Poet praise printed prison prose quæ quam quid quod reads relative note remorse RICHARD SOUTHWELL ROBERT SOUTHWELL runne Saint sely sence sense shame shewe shroud shyne sight silly sinne Sith Society of Jesus sonne sorrow soule SOUTHWELL'S stanzas Stonyhurst College sunne sweet synne thee things thou thought Topliffe TURNBULL misprints tyme unto verse vertue Vertue's veyles vita weepe Whome witt words worth woundes yelde Yett
مقاطع مشهورة
الصفحة xxxiii - Complaint and those other serious poems said to be father Southwell's ; the English whereof, as it is most proper, so the sharpness and light of wit is very rare in them.
الصفحة 110 - The fuel justice layeth on, and mercy blows the coals; The metal in this furnace wrought are men's defiled souls: For which, as now on fire I am to work them to their good, So will I melt into a bath to wash them in my blood.
الصفحة 5 - And because the best course to let them see the errour of their...
الصفحة lviii - For none of us lives to himself, and no one dies to himself. For if we live, we live to the Lord; and if we die, we die to the Lord. Therefore, whether we live or die, we are the Lord's.
الصفحة 62 - Christs death Sith my life from life is parted: Death come take thy portion. Who survives, when life is murdred, Lives by meere extortion. All that live, and not in God: 5 Couch their life in deaths abod.
الصفحة 157 - scape shall have no way. Oh ! grant me grace, O God, that I My life may mend, sith I must die.
الصفحة xciii - That Southwell was hanged ; yet so he had written that piece of his, the Burning Babe, he would have been content to destroy many of his.
الصفحة c - Eesolving service to his God's behest, And ever musing how to serve Him best. Not old, nor young; with manhood's gentlest grace; Pale to transparency the pensive face, Pale not with sickness, but with studious thought, The body tasked, the fine mind overwrought; With something faint and fragile in the whole, As though 'twere but a lamp to hold a souL Such was the friend who came to La Garaye, And Claud and Gertrude lived to bless the day!
الصفحة 66 - His will was followed with performing word. Let this suffice, by this conceive the rest: He should, he could, he would, he did the best.
الصفحة 155 - I see the bones across that lie, Yet little think that I must die. I read the label underneath, That telleth me whereto I must ; I see the sentence eke that saith ' Remember, man, that thou art dust ! ' But yet, alas, but seldom I Do think indeed that I must die.