The hooded snake, Volume 448

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Page 88 - Read from some humbler poet. Whose songs gushed from his heart, As showers from the clouds of summer, Or tears from the eyelids start...
Page 260 - Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls The sick man's passport in her hollow beak, And in the shadow of the silent night Doth shake contagion from her sable wings, Vex'd and tormented runs poor Barabas With fatal curses towards these Christians.
Page i - Your face, my thane, is as a book, where men May read strange -matters: — to beguile the time, Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye, Your hand, your tongue : look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it...
Page 156 - ... Headman's Bay is the island of Sein, a desolate, treeless, and all but unsheltered sand-bank, the abode of some poor and compassionate families, who yearly save the shipwrecked mariners. This island was the abode of the sacred virgins who gave the Celts fine weather or shipwreck. There they celebrated their gloomy and murderous orgies ; and the seamen heard with terror, far off at sea, the clash of barbaric cymbals.} This island is the traditionary birth-place of Myrddyn, the Merlin of the middle...
Page 276 - And then up spoke the little cabin-boy, And a pretty little boy was he ; ' Oh, I am more grieved for my daddy and my mammy, Than you for your wives all three.
Page 261 - anger, as worthy old Fuller observes, is one of the sinews of the soul, and he that wants it hath a maimed mind. I am glad Miss Trevelyan has so complete a champion. Now, listen. Your house has taken away Aspen Court from Lilian Trevelyan. Will you do your utmost to restore it to her?
Page vi - Parlons bas, Parlons bas, Ici pres j'ai vu Judas, J'ai vu Judas, j'ai vu Judas.
Page 127 - The Chevalier looked at his son for some minutes without speaking— then said gently — " Sit down, Victor — let us talk together." The young man obeyed mechanically, His father then went on — " It is not my wish to remind you of benefits received ; but I have suffered much for you, Victor, — suffered — and suffered cheerfully, because you were my son — my only son.
Page 126 - ... was the Chevalier de Preville, the owner of the chateau and all that it contained ; or, as he himself said, the Timon who had made this tumble-down old place a refuge from the world, where he might let a profitless life slip by, and " eat his root
Page 87 - One of the ballads of the people — whose simple words are the utterance of the heart — in whose melody we hear the sad murmur of the wind across our heaths, the melancholy ripple of the waves upon our shores.

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