The Inheritance, Volume 1

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William Blackwood, 1824

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Page 127 - REMEMBER now thy Creator in the days of thy youth, while the evil days come not, nor the years draw nigh, when thou shalt say, I have no pleasure in them...
Page 118 - Lulled in the countless chambers of the brain, Our thoughts are linked by many a hidden chain. Awake but one, and lo, what myriads rise ! * Each stamps its image as the other flies.
Page 126 - The lot is cast into the lap ; but the whole disposing thereof is of the LORD.
Page 141 - Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast ? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here awhile To blush and gently smile, And go at last. What, were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good-night ? 'Twas pity Nature brought ye forth Merely to show your worth, And lose you quite. But you are lovely leaves, where we May read how soon things have Their end, though ne'er so brave : And after they have shown their pride Like you, awhile, they glide Into the grave.
Page 106 - Pictures like these, dear madam, to design, Asks no firm hand, and no unerring line; Some wandering touches, some reflected light, Some flying stroke alone can hit 'em right: For how should equal colours do the knack? Chameleons who can paint in white and black? "Yet Chloe sure was formed without a spot"— Nature in her then erred not, but forgot. "With every pleasing, every prudent part, Say, what can Chloe want?"— She wants a heart.
Page 181 - He's a terrible man, John Tod, John Tod ; He's a terrible man, John Tod ; He scolds in the house...
Page 280 - I see also his prime time and his end. I do confess my faults and all my ill, And sorrow sore for that I did offend".
Page 141 - BLOSSOMS FAIR pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast ? Your date is not so past, But you may stay yet here awhile, To blush and gently smile, And go at last. What, were ye born to be An hour or half's delight, And so to bid good-night?
Page 291 - When the rude wintry win' Idly raves round our dwelling, And the roar of the linn On the night breeze is swelling So merrily we'll sing, As the storm rattles o'er us, Till the dear shieling ring Wi' the light lilting chorus. Now the summer is in prime, Wi...
Page 281 - Thou that of grace restor'dst the blind to sight ; Thou that for love Thy life and love outbled ; Thou that of favour...

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