The Splendid Advantages of Being a Woman

Predný obal
Lovell, Adam, Wesson, 1876 - 362 strán (strany)
 

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Strana 268 - Falsely luxurious, will not man awake; And, springing from the bed of sloth, enjoy The cool, the fragrant, and the silent hour, To meditation due and sacred song ? For is there aught in sleep can charm the wise? To lie in dead oblivion, losing half The fleeting moments of too short a life; Total extinction of th
Strana 151 - Yes, to smell pork ; to eat of the habitation which your prophet the Nazarite conjured the devil into. I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following ; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you.
Strana 51 - Tumultuous grandeur crowds the blazing square, The rattling chariots clash, the torches glare. Sure scenes like these no troubles e'er annoy ; Sure these denote one universal joy.
Strana 128 - She, of whose soul, if we may say, 'twas gold, Her body was the electrum, and did hold Many degrees of that ; we understood Her by her sight ; her pure, and eloquent blood Spoke in her cheeks, and so distinctly wrought, That one might almost say, her body thought...
Strana 341 - Nor fear'd the chief th' unequal fight to try, Who sought no more than on his foe to die. But this bold lord, with manly strength...
Strana 20 - Aside for ever: it may be a sound — A tone of music — summer's eve — or spring — A flower — the wind — the ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound...
Strana 355 - Not poppy, nor mandragora, Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world, Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep Which thou ow'dst yesterday.
Strana 18 - Grief fills the room up of my absent child, Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me, Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words, Remembers me of all his gracious parts, Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form; Then, have I reason to be fond of grief ? Fare you well: had you such a loss as I, I could give better comfort than you do.
Strana 360 - Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deafning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly," death itself awakes ? Can'st thou, O partial sleep ! give thy repose To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude ; And in the calmest and most stillest night, With all appliances and means to boot, Deny it to a king? Then, happy low, lie down ! Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.
Strana 215 - Nature never set forth the earth in so rich tapestry as divers poets have done, neither with so pleasant rivers, fruitful trees, sweet-smelling flowers, nor whatsoever else may make the too much loved earth more lovely. Her world is brazen, the poets only deliver a golden.

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