Weimar's trust, Volume 1Samuel Tinsley, 1873 |
Common terms and phrases
aboot alang answered Antoine bairn believe better bonnie breast brow canna chamber CHAPTER child clasped countenance Crabbe cried dare daughter David Wylie dead dear death dinna door doubt drawer Enrile escritoire Eugénie eyes face father fear feelings felt frae gazing Gentlemen of Verona glance gleam hair hand happiness head hear heard heart hope idea Isamena JEREMY TAYLOR kind Lachasse lassie lawyer leave Leyton lifted lips little girl look lover maister Massa matter maun Melville mind Miss Desmond murmured never nigger night nurse papa poor Portuguese puir replied Romeo and Juliet seemed slave sleep smile soft eye solicitor soul sporran stood supercargo tears tell there's thought tion trembling turned uncon verandah voice watch wealth weel Weimar wife wish words wretched young
Popular passages
Page 167 - Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's, And nothing can we call our own but death, And that small model of the barren earth Which serves as paste and cover to our bones.
Page 80 - My apprehensions come in crowds; I dread the rustling of the grass; The very shadows of the clouds Have power to shake me as they pass...
Page 61 - And he that stealeth a man, and selleth him, or if he be found in his hand, he shall surely be put to death.
Page 109 - For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight; His can't be wrong whose life is in the right...
Page 37 - Pompey, are sui amantes sine rivali, are many times unfortunate ; and whereas they have all their time sacrificed to themselves, they become in the end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings they thought by their self-wisdom to have pinioned.
Page 40 - I do not know the man I should avoid So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads much ; He is a great observer and he looks Quite through the deeds of men...
Page 139 - Out, alas! she's cold; Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; Life and these lips have long been separated: Death lies on her, like an untimely frost Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.
Page 101 - Such was Roscommon, not more learn'd than good, With manners gen'rous as his noble blood; To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known, And ev'ry author's merit, but his own. Such late was Walsh — the Muse's judge and friend, Who justly knew to blame or to commend; To failings mild, but zealous for desert; The clearest head, and the sincerest heart.
Page 12 - There Harold gazes on a work divine, A blending of all beauties; streams and dells, Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine, And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells.
Page 253 - Tell zeal it wants devotion. Tell love it is but lust, Tell time it is but motion, Tell flesh it is but dust : And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lie. Tell age it daily wasteth, Tell honour how it alters, Tell beauty how she blasteth.