Castles in the air, Volume 3

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Page 274 - GOD Almighty first planted a garden; and, indeed, it is the purest of human pleasures; it is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man ; without which buildings and palaces are but gross handyworks ; and a man shall ever see, that, when ages grow to civility and elegancy, men come to build stately, sooner than to garden finely ; as if garden1 Watercourses. ing were the greater perfection.
Page 319 - Seek we thy once lor'd home ? The hands are gone that cropt its flowers, Cold is the hearth within its bowers, — And should we thither roam, Its .echoes and its empty tread Would sound like voices from the dead. CAMPBELL. LEST the reader should...
Page 297 - Je le méprise. — Et cet être, c'est moi. Qu'ai-je fait ? qu'ai-je appris ? — Le temps est si [rapide ! L'enfant marche joyeux, sans songer au chemin ; II le croit infini, n'en voyant pas la fin. Tout à coup il rencontre une source limpide, II s'arrête, il se penche, il y voit un vieillard.
Page 269 - Ne plus penser, ne plus aimer, ne plus haïr; Si dans un coin du cœur il éclôt un désir, Lui couper sans pitié ses ailes de colombe ; Être comme est un mort étendu sous la tombe; Dans l'immobilité savourer lentement, Comme un philtre endormeur, l'anéantissement : Voilà quel est mon vœu, tant j'ai de lassitude D'avoir voulu gravir...
Page 48 - ... Far out from sight of land, and there 'twill ride Triumphant on the shoulders of the main ; All winds and billows making music for't, As though 'twere the Jove of waters ! 73. — Revenge. MY Revenge Was born in laughter, (as our highest delights Oft blush at first through tears) ; — but 'twill endure, — Like oaks which, born in May, seem slight and weak, But having a score of winters on their heads, Grow strong and rugged, — so doth my Revenge ! Nought shall impoverish it. The bounteous...
Page 269 - ... ground,should match with dust : But We, — whose homes are on the mountain tops, Whose thoughts beyond,— must breathe fit air, and hold Nothing beneath the stars in fellowship. 16.— Unborn Flowers, How gentle is the sward ! Tread soft ! Perhaps A blue-eyed creature whom the Spring forgot To sweeten, lies below. Perhaps she was Too frail to unfold her bloom ; so died i
Page 249 - Praise, praise to Belshazzar, Belshazzar the king ! " Now what cometh — look, look ! — without menace or call ? Who writes with the lightning's bright hand on the wall ? What pierceth the king like the point of a dart ? What drives the bold blood from his cheek to his heart...
Page 93 - I took their compliments to myself. — Were confirmation wanting to the proverb that a man is never a prophet in his own country...
Page 2 - Sunday orchestra; — just as travellers in Greece sentimentalize and drivel quartos over the ruins of Troy, and then come home and discover they have mistaken the site.
Page 22 - she wished for no better friends or lovers than those she left behind !" The carriage had turned the corner of the Rue de Rivoli, before I became thoroughly certain that it was the common earth I stood on, and that the usual sky was expanding over my bewildered head. CHAPTER II.

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