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appears Ben Jonson bequeath Bishop Henry King Bishop John King Bishop King Bishop of Chichester Bishop of London blessed brother buried Chaplain Charles Church Colchester copy crown 8vo daughter dayes death died Donne doth Duppa Earl earth edition eldest Elegies Elizabeth English extract Fasti Father foolscap fscap 8vo George Lisle George Sandys hath haue Henry Herringman Hist Holt honour Hooker John King King's Poems Lady letter Lisle live Lord Lord's Prayer Lucas marriage married Memoir memory mentioned Newc Oxford Paul's Petworth Philip King Prayer preached printed PSAL Psalms published reprinted Richard Robert Holt Royal says Sermon shew sonne sorrow soul thee thine Thomas thou thought Translation unto verses vertue vols volume vpon Walton wife William Wood Worminghall
Página xiv - Nor wonder if my time go thus Backward and most preposterous; Thou hast benighted me, thy set This eve of blackness did beget, Who wast my day, (though overcast Before thou had'st thy noon-tide past) And I remember must in tears, Thou scarce had'st seen so many years As day tells hours.
Página cxix - LIKE to the falling of a star, Or as the flights of eagles are, Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue, Or silver drops of morning dew, Or like a wind that chafes the flood, Or bubbles which on water stood : Even such is man, whose borrowed light Is straight called in and paid to-night.
Página 36 - A glimpse of thee, till that day come Which shall the earth to cinders doom. And a fierce fever must calcine The body of this world — like thine, My Little World ! That fit of fire Once off, our bodies shall aspire To our souls...
Página 180 - And, when to the amazement of some beholders he appeared in the Pulpit, many of them thought he presented himself not to preach mortification by a living voice : but, mortality by a decayed body and a dying face.
Página 37 - Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake: Till age, or grief, or sickness must Marry my body to that dust It so much loves ; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy tomb. Stay for me there; I will not fail To meet thee in that hollow vale. And think not much of my delay ; I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree, And every hour a step towards thee. At night when I betake to rest, Next morn I rise nearer...
Página cxix - E'en such is man ; whose thread is spun, Drawn out, and cut, and so is done. The rose withers, the blossom blasteth ; The flower fades, the morning hasteth ; The sun sets, the shadow flies ; The gourd consumes, — and man he dies...
Página 30 - Since then some higher destinies command Let us not strive nor labour to withstand What is past help. The longest date of grief Can never yield a hope of our relief; And though we waste ourselves in moist laments, Tears may drown us, but not our discontents.