Sir Samuel Ferguson in the Ireland of His Day, Volume 1

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W. Blackwood, 1896 - Ireland - 383 pages
 

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Page 288 - Heaven doth with us as we with torches do: Not light them for themselves ; for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not.
Page 1 - There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd ; The which observ'd, a man may prophesy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, which in their seeds, And weak beginnings, lie in treasured.
Page 92 - Let me set my mournful ditty To a merry measure; Thou wilt never come for pity, Thou wilt come for pleasure, Pity then will cut away Those cruel wings, and thou wilt stay.
Page 35 - Greatness and goodness are not means, but ends ! Hath he not always treasures, always friends, The good great man ? Three treasures, love, and light, And calm thoughts regular as infant's breath : And three firm friends, more sure than day and night, Himself, his Maker, and the angel Death.
Page 110 - With future hope, I oft would gaze, Fond, on thy little early ways, Thy rudely caroll'd, chiming phrase, In uncouth rhymes, Fir'd at the simple, artless lays, Of other times. " I saw thee seek the sounding shore, Delighted with the dashing roar ; Or when the north his fleecy store Drove through the sky, I saw grim nature's visage hoar Struck thy young eye. " Or when the deep green-mantled earth Warm cherish'cl ev'ry flow'rets birth, And joy and music pouring forth In ev'ry grove, I saw thee eye the...
Page 159 - Vext the dim sea: I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments...
Page 68 - THAT AND A' THAT" Is there, for honest Poverty, That hangs his head, and a' that! The coward slave, we pass him by, We dare be poor for a
Page 159 - Much have I seen and known ; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honour'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move.
Page 133 - God ! that one might read the book of fate, And see the revolution of the times Make mountains level, and the continent, Weary of solid firmness, melt itself Into the sea...

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