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Achmet Acrostic Adrian Clare Albemarle Street asked Audrey beautiful Bimbo Blamire BRANTWOOD called camp Charlotte Brontë Chartham CORNHILL MAGAZINE cottage dear death delightful Delilah door English eyes face Faiz Ullah father feel followed Gayle Ghilzai Giaours girl give glance gone hand head heard heart hills humour Jess Kara Nouri King knew Labour Lady Suffolk Lanty laughed LEONARD HUXLEY letter live looked Lord mahout Mark Pattison marriage matter Merrilees miles mind Miss Mo Yi moor Murray never night once Pall passed Pembrokeshire Pitlochry Puigi Queen remember road Roger round Ruskin Scroope's seemed Stephen Elliot stood Storrith story Suffolk sure talk tell things thought to-day told took Tring turned voice weather Wee Daunt Wee Scroope wife woman wonder word write young
Page 449 - Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, Before we too into the Dust descend ; Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie. Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and — sans End! Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare, And those that after some TO-MORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries, " Fools ! your Reward is neither Here nor There.
Page 456 - I moti tuoi, né di sospiri è degna La terra. Amaro e noia La vita, altro mai nulla; e fango è il mondo.
Page 452 - No more ? A monster then, a dream, A discord. Dragons of the prime, That tare each other in their slime, Were mellow music match'd with him. O life as futile, then, as frail ! O for thy voice to soothe and bless ! What hope of answer, or redress? Behind the veil, behind the veil.
Page 715 - The antler'd monarch of the waste Sprung from his heathery couch in haste. But, ere his fleet career he took, The dew-drops from his flanks he shook ; Like crested leader proud and high, Toss'd his beam'd frontlet to the sky; A moment gazed adown the dale, A moment...
Page 344 - But yet the Lord that is on high, Is more of might by far, Than noise of many waters is, Or great sea-billows are.
Page 443 - The words of the wise are as goads, and as nails fastened by the masters of assemblies, which are given from one shepherd.
Page 714 - The curtain falls, the play is played: The Beggar packs beside the Beau; The Monarch troops, and troops the Maid; The Thunder huddles with the Snow. Where are the revellers high and low? The clashing swords? The lover's call? The dancers gleaming row on row? Into the night go one and all.
Page 715 - The stag at eve had drunk his fill, Where danced the moon on Monan's rill, And deep his midnight lair had made In lone Glenartney's hazel shade...