The lost brooch, or, The history of another month, by the author of 'The fairy bower'.

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Page 228 - Oh ! ever thus, from childhood's hour, I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But 'twas the first to fade away. I never nursed a dear gazelle, To glad me with its soft black eye, • But when it came to know me well, And love me, it was sure to die...
Page 329 - ... wiles, Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles. And now I see with eye serene The very pulse of the machine ; A being breathing thoughtful breath, A traveller between life and death : The reason firm, the temperate will, Endurance, foresight, strength, and skill ; A perfect woman, nobly plann'd To warn, to comfort, and command ; And yet a Spirit still, and bright With something of an angel-light.
Page 49 - ... again ! They tempt the sun to sport amid their plumes; They tempt the water, or the gleaming ice, To show them a fair image; — 'tis themselves, Their own fair forms, upon the glimmering plain, Painted more soft and fair as they descend Almost to touch ; — then up again aloft, Up with a sally and a flash of speed, As if they scorned both resting-place and rest t YEW-TREES.
Page 11 - I'd be a Butterfly born in a bower, Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet. O could I pilfer the wand of a fairy, I'd have a pair of those beautiful wings; Their summer days' ramble is sportive and airy, They sleep in a rose when the nightingale sings.
Page 198 - ... faint hearts, at first espial Of his grim face, were from approaching scared: Unworthy they of grace, whom one denial Excludes from fairest hope withouten further trial. " Yet many doughty warriors, often tried In greater perils to be stout and bold, Durst not the sternness of his look abide: But, soon as they his countenance did behold, Began to faint, and feel their courage cold. Again, some other, that in hard assays Were cowards known, and little count did hold, Either through gifts, or guile,...
Page 234 - She that will not when she may, when she will she shall have nay.
Page 10 - I'D be a Butterfly born in a bower, Where roses and lilies and violets meet; Roving for ever from flower to flower, And kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet! I'd never languish for wealth, or for power, I'd never sigh to see slaves at my feet: I'd be a Butterfly born in a bower, Kissing all buds that are pretty and sweet.
Page 217 - How happy is he born or taught That serveth not another's will ; Whose armour is his honest thought, And simple truth his highest skill...
Page 242 - Causes but seldom for delay can call In courts where forms are few, fees none at all. The morning came, nor find I that the Sun, As he on other great events hath done, Put on a brighter robe than what he wore To go his journey in, the day before. Full in the centre of a spacious plain, On plan entirely...
Page 167 - Thus was Beauty sent from heaven, The lovely ministress of truth and good In this dark world : for truth and good are one, And Beauty dwells in them, and they in her, With like participation.

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