De Clifford: Or, The Constant Man, Volume 3
Lea and Blanchard, 1841 - England
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added admire affected allowed answer appeared asked beautiful believe Bertha brought called castle cause certainly CHAPTER character Clifford consequence continued conversation court cousin critic daughter dear dinner doubt engagement eyes father fear feelings felt fortune gave give Granville hand happy Hastings heard heart honour hope hour interest knew Lady Hungerford least leave less letter looked Lord Castleton Lord Rochfort manner marquess means mind Miss nature never night observed occasioned once park particularly party passed perhaps person pleased pleasure poor present prince question reason replied respect seemed seen shew situation soon sort suppose sure talk tell thank thing thought tion told took true turn whole wish wonder young
Page 287 - gainst that season comes Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated, The bird of dawning singeth all night long : And then, they say, no spirit dare stir abroad ; The nights are wholesome ; then no planets strike, No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to charm, So hallow'd and so gracious is the time.
Page 101 - The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang, And churlish chiding of the winter's wind; Which when it bites and blows upon my body, Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say,— This is no flattery: these are counsellors That feelingly persuade me what I am.
Page 266 - Twere now to be most happy, for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.
Page 230 - I have heard That guilty creatures, sitting at a play, Have by the very cunning of the scene Been struck so to the soul that presently They have proclaim'd their malefactions; For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak With most miraculous organ.
Page 41 - Who could not win the mistress, woo'd the maid; Against the poets their own arms they turn'd, Sure to hate most the men from whom they learn'd. So modern 'pothecaries taught the art By doctors...
Page 234 - You stole her from me ; like a thief you stole her, At dead of night ; that cursed hour you chose To rifle me of all my heart held dear. May all your joys in her prove false, like mine ! A sterile fortune, and a barren bed, Attend you both; continual discord make Your days and nights bitter, and grievous still : May the hard hand of a vexatious need Oppress and grind you ; till at last you find The curse of disobedience all your portion.
Page 133 - He that has light within his own clear breast, May sit i' the centre and enjoy bright day : But he that hides a dark soul and foul thoughts, Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; Himself is his own dungeon.
Page 233 - The honour of my house, you've done me wrong. You may remember — for I now will speak, And urge its baseness— when you first came home From travel, with such hopes as made you...
Page 233 - Not hear me! by my sufferings, but you shall! My lord — my lord ! I'm not that abject wretch You think me. Patience ! where's the distance throws Me back so far, but I may boldly speak In right, though proud oppression will not hear me ? Pri.
Page 251 - That eagle's fate and mine are one, Which, on the shaft that made him die, Espied a feather of his own, Wherewith he wont to soar so high.