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Account ALGIERS appeared arms ARTS Author beautiful behold breathe called child close comes containing Cooke dark DAVID BREWSTER delight Drawings dream early earth English engraved EXPEDITION eyes fear feelings fire flowers folio follow friends gate gentle give given Greek green half hand hear heart Heaven History holy hope hour HUMAN Illustrations ITALY known knows language late leave less light live look Lord March mother moves Nature never night Note once original Page passed Persian Plates pleasure present printed published round Royal sate scene Sciences ship side sits sleep smiles Society soon sought soul speaks stand sweet tears thee things Thomas thou thought thousand Three traces Translation turn Twas VIEWS voice vols volume wander watch wild wish write written young Youth
Page 72 - I wist, all their sport in the Park is but a shadow to that pleasure that I find in Plato. Alas! good folk, they never felt what true pleasure meant.
Page 20 - Locked in her arms, his arms across her flung, (That name most dear for ever on his tongue) As with soft accents round her neck he clings, And, cheek to cheek, her lulling song she sings, How blest to feel the beatings of his heart, Breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss impart ; Watch o'er his slumbers like the brooding dove, And, if she can, exhaust a mother's love!
Page 72 - Her parents, the duke and duchess, with all the household, gentlemen and gentlewomen, were hunting in the park. I found her in her chamber, reading...
Page 34 - The soul of music slumbers in the shell, Till waked and kindled by the master's spell; And feeling hearts — touch them but rightly— pour A thousand melodies unheard before...
Page 21 - Breathe his sweet breath, and kiss for kiss impart : Watch o'er his slumbers like the brooding dove, And, if she can, exhaust a mother's love ! But soon a nobler task demands her care, Apart she joins his little hands in prayer, Telling of Him who sees in secret there. And now the volume on her knee has caught His wandering eye — now many a written thought, Never to die, with many a lisping sweet, His moving, murmuring lips endeavour to repeat.
Page 65 - When by a good man's grave I muse alone, Methinks an Angel sits upon the stone ; Like those of old, on that thrice-hallowed night, Who sate and watched in raiment heavenly bright ; And, with a voice inspiring joy not fear, Says, pointing upward,
Page 8 - For now the caudle-cup is circling there, Now, glad at heart, the gossips breathe their prayer, And, crowding, stop the cradle to admire The babe, the sleeping image of his sire. A few short years — and then these sounds shall hail The day again, and gladness fill the vale ; So soon the child a youth, the youth a man, Eager to run the race his fathers ran. Then the huge ox shall yield the broad sirloin ; The ale...
Page 73 - ... an inward prompting which now grew daily upon me, that by labour and intense study, (which I take to be my portion in this life,) joined with the strong propensity of nature, I might perhaps leave something so written to aftertimes, as they should not willingly let it die.