The home tutor, a treasury of self-culture

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Page 300 - Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath. That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music.
Page 474 - Come on therefore, let us enjoy the good things that are present : and let us speedily use the creatures like as in youth. Let us fill ourselves with costly wine and ointments : and let no flower of the spring pass by us. Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they be withered.
Page 459 - He giveth snow like wool : He scattereth the hoarfrost like ashes. He casteth forth His ice like morsels : Who can stand before His cold? He sendeth out His word, and melteth them : He causeth His wind to blow, and the waters flow.
Page 425 - Now through the passing cloud she seems to stoop, Now up the pure cerulean rides sublime. Wide the pale deluge floats, and streaming mild O'er the sky'd mountain to the shadowy vale, While rocks and floods reflect the quivering gleam, The whole air whitens with a boundless tide Of silver radiance, trembling round the world.
Page 469 - Sits on the horizon round a settled gloom : Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed, Oppressing life ; but lovely, gentle, kind, And full of every hope, and every joy ; The wish of Nature.
Page 437 - What if the sun Be centre to the world, and other stars, By his attractive virtue and their own Incited, dance about him various rounds...
Page 474 - On the charmed eye, the exulting florist marks With secret pride the wonders of his hand. No gradual bloom is wanting — from the bud First-born of Spring to Summer's musky tribes; Nor hyacinths, of purest virgin white, Low bent a'nd blushing inward ; nor jonquils, Of potent fragrance; nor narcissus fair, As o'er the fabled fountain hanging still; Nor broad carnations, nor gay-spotted pinks; Nor, showered from every bush, the damask-rose: Infinite numbers, delicacies, smells.
Page 455 - All Nature feels the renovating force Of Winter, only to the thoughtless eye In ruin seen. The frost-concocted glebe Draws in abundant vegetable soul, And gathers vigour for the coming year.
Page 475 - Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.
Page 474 - Then comes the tulip race, where beauty plays Her idle freaks ; from family diffused To family, as flies the father-dust. The varied colours run ; and while they break On the charm'd eye, th' exulting florist marks, With secret pride, the wonders of his hand.

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