...creeping, Or know who rested there ; a foe to rest Had soil'd the current of her sinless years, I. Oh, Love ! what is it in this world of ours Which...sigh ? As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers, And place them on their breast — but place to die — Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish...

...years, And turn'd her pure heart's purest blood to tears. " Oh, Love ! what is it in this world of our« Which makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah, why With cypress...wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh f As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers, And place them on their breast — but place to die...

...creeping, Or know who rested there ; a foe to rest JTad soil'd the current of her sinless years, * ii. Oh , Love ! what is it in this world of ours Which...to be loved? Ah why With cypress branches hast thou whreathed thy bowers, .And made thy best interpreter a sigh ? As those who dote OH odours pluck the...

...years, And turn'd her pure heart's purest blood to tears. " Oh, Love ! what is it in this world of ouri Which makes it fatal to be loved ? Ah, why With cypress branches hajt thou wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh ? As those who dote on odours pluck...

...1'accord !e plus parfait regne dans tout ce qu'on sent et dans tout ce qu'on dit. — Mme. de Stael. Oh ! Love, what is it in this world of ours Which...fatal to be loved? — Ah why With cypress branches has thou wrcath'd thy flowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh ? Lord Byron. Eagles fly alone...

...l'accord le plus parfait règne dans tout ce qu'on sent et dans tout ce qu'on dit. — Mme. de Staël. Oh ! Love, what is it in this world of ours Which makes it fatal to be loved î — Ah why With cypress branches has thou wreath'd thy flowers, And made thy best interpreter a...

...Had snil'd the current of her sinless years, And turn'd her pure heart's purest blood to tears. II. Oh, Love ! what is it in this world of ours Which makes it fatal to be loved t Ah ! why With cypress branches hast thou wreathed thy bowers, And made thy best interpreter a sigh...

...his judgment till some conclusive evidence might assist him in discovering the villain. CHAPTER XV. " Oh, love! what is it in this world of ours Which makes it fatal lo he InvM ? ah ! why With cypress branches hast thou wreath'tl thy bowers. And made thy best interpreter...

...self each sordid thought ; A ray of him who formed the whole ; A glory circling round the soul ! ***** Oh, Love ! what is it in this world of ours Which...sigh ? As those who dote on odours pluck the flowers, And place them on their breast — but place to dk — Thus the frail beings we would fondly cherish...

...Had soil'd the current of her sinless years, And turn'd her pure heart's purest hlood to tears. II. Oh, Love! what is it in this world of ours Which makes it fatal to he loved? Ah why With cypress hranches hast thou wreathed thy howeri, And made thy hest interpreter...