The Life of John Banim, the Irish Novelist: Author of "Damon and Pythias", &c. and One of the Writers of "Tales by the O'Hara Family". With Extracts from His Correspondence, General and Literary

Framsida
W. Lay, 1857 - 334 sidor
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Sida 38 - In the spring a fuller crimson comes upon the robin's breast; In the spring the wanton lapwing gets himself another crest; In the spring a livelier iris changes on the burnish'd dove; In the spring a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.
Sida 110 - O, how this spring of love resembleth The uncertain glory of an April day ; Which now shows all the beauty of the sun, And by and by a cloud takes all away ! Re-enter PANTHINO.
Sida 5 - Je n'ay pas plus faict mon livre que mon livre m'a faict, livre consubstantiel ā son autheur, d'une occupation propre, membre de ma vie ; non d'une occupation et fin tierce et estrangere comme tous autres livres.
Sida 226 - AH ! who can tell how hard it is to climb The steep where Fame's proud temple shines afar; Ah! who can tell how many a soul sublime Has felt the influence of malignant star, And waged with Fortune an eternal war; Check'd by the scoff of Pride, by Envy's frown, And Poverty's unconquerable bar, In life's low vale remote has pined alone, Then dropt into the grave, unpitied and unknown...
Sida 237 - Not wholly in the busy world, nor quite Beyond it, blooms the garden that I love. News from the humming city comes to it In sound of funeral or of marriage bells, And, sitting muffled in dark leaves, you hear The windy clanging of the minster clock ; Although between it and the garden lies A league of grass, wash'd by a slow broad stream. That...
Sida 19 - II is no marvel — from my very birth My soul was drunk with love, which did pervade And mingle with whate'er I saw on earth ; Of objects all inanimate I made Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers, And rocks, whereby they grew, a paradise, "Whero 1 did lay me down within the shade Of waving trees, and dream'd uncounted hours, Though I was chid for wandering...
Sida 40 - Love took up the harp of life, and smote on all the chords with might; Smote the chord of self, that, trembling, passed in music out of sight.
Sida 40 - Love took up the glass of Time, and turn'd it in his glowing hands; Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Sida 9 - As the husband is, the wife is : thou art mated with a clown, And the grossness of his nature will have weight to drag thee down. He will hold thee, when his passion shall have spent its novel force, Something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse.

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