The Strangers of the Glen; Or, The Travellers Benighted: A Tale of Mystery

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G. Virtue, 1827 - 715 pages
 

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Page 162 - Alas ! the love of women ! it is known To be a lovely and a fearful thing ; For all of theirs upon that die is thrown, And if 'tis lost, life hath no more to bring To them but mockeries of the past alone...
Page 201 - 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 23 - I could a tale unfold whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood, Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres, Thy knotted and combined locks to part And each particular hair to stand on end, Like quills upon the fretful porcupine : But this eternal blazon must not be To ears of flesh and blood.
Page 327 - Twere now to be most happy, for I fear My soul hath her content so absolute That not another comfort like to this Succeeds in unknown fate.
Page 555 - From her full bosom bursts the unbidden sigh. A strange mysterious awe the scene inspires ; And on her lips the trembling accents die. O'er her fair face what wild emotions play ! What lights and shades in sweet confusion blend...
Page 243 - Early he rose, and look'd with many a sigh On the red light that fill'd the eastern sky ; Oft had he stood before, alert and gay, To hail the glories of the new-born day : But now dejected, languid, listless, low, He saw the wind upon the water blow, And the cold stream curl'd...
Page 554 - Wedding-dance—a dance into the night On the barn.floor, when maiden-feet are light; When the young bride receives the promised dower, And flowers are flung, " herself a fairer flower: "— A morning.visit to the poor man's shed, (Who would be rich while One was wanting bread...
Page 243 - When now the young are rear'd, and when the old, Lost to the tie, grow negligent and cold — Far to the left he saw the huts of men, Half hid in mist, that hung upon the fen ; Before him swallows, gathering for the sea, Took their short flights, and...
Page 443 - That fatal quicksands lurk below. "In life such bubbles nought admiring Gilt with false light and fill'd with air, Do you, from pageant crowds retiring, To peace in virtue's cot repair; " There seek the never-wasted treasure, Which mutual love and friendship give, Domestic comfort, spotless pleasure, And bless'd and blessing you will live.

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