The Weekly entertainer; or agreeable and instructive repository. [Continued as] The Weekly entertainer; and west of England miscellany

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Page 610 - I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men; for kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty.
Page 399 - The busy day, the peaceful night, Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; His frame was firm — his powers were bright, Though now his eightieth year was nigh. Then with no fiery throbbing pain, No cold gradations of decay, Death broke at once the vital chain, And freed his soul the nearest way.
Page 242 - Why did you promise love to me, And not that promise keep? Why did you swear my eyes were bright, Yet leave those eyes to weep? "How could you say my face was fair, And yet that face forsake? How could you win my virgin heart, Yet leave that heart to break?
Page 241 - So shall the fairest face appear, When youth and years are flown: Such is the robe that kings must wear, When death has reft their crown.
Page 349 - SHALL I, like a hermit, dwell, On a rock, or in a cell, Calling home the smallest part That is missing of my heart, To bestow it where I may Meet a rival every day ? If she undervalue me, What care I how fair she be...
Page 99 - And widows' tears, and orphans' moans ; And all that Misery's hand bestows, To fill the catalogue of human woes.
Page 541 - There shall be sung another golden age, The rise of empire and of arts, The good and great inspiring epic rage, The wisest heads and noblest hearts. Not such as Europe breeds in her decay ; Such as she bred when fresh and young, When heavenly flame did animate her clay, By future poets shall be sung. Westward the course of empire takes its way ; The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day ; Time's noblest offspring is the last.
Page 349 - I (like a hermit) dwell On a rock, or in a cell, Calling home the smallest part That is missing of my heart, To bestow it, where I may Meet a rival every day ? If She undervalue me ; What care I, how fair She be!
Page 125 - I am sure no people ever endured more. In the morning, the weather grew moderate...
Page 241 - thy true love calls, Come from her midnight grave; Now let thy pity hear the maid Thy love refused to save.

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