"Rish" Quotes from Famous Books
 ... bosom's friend; Here must the sweet delusion end, That charmed my senses many a year, Through smiling summers, winters drear. Oh, friendship! am I doomed to find Thou art a phantom of the mind? A glitt'ring shade, an empty name, An air-born vision's vap'rish flame? And yet, the dear deceit so long Has wak'd to joy my matin song, Has bid my tears forget to flow, Chas'd ev'ry pain, sooth'd ev'ry woe; That truth, unwelcome to my ear, Swells the deep sigh, recalls the tear, Gives to the sense the keenest smart, Checks the warm pulses of the heart, Darkens ...
— Beaux and Belles of England • Mary Robinson
... seen the old dun horse. He did not seem to run. He seemed to sail along like a bird. He passed all the fastest horses, and in a moment he was among the buffalo. First he picked out the spotted calf, and charging up alongside of it, U-ra-rish! straight flew the arrow. The calf fell. The boy drew another arrow, and killed a fat cow that was running by. Then he dismounted and began to skin the calf, before any of the other warriors had come up. But when the rider got off the old dun horse, how changed he was! ...
— Folk Tales Every Child Should Know • Various
... name, And writ, for Leonora, Torrismond. I went to bed, and to myself I thought That I would think on Torrismond no more; Then shut my eyes, but could not shut out him. I turned, and tried each corner of my bed, To find if sleep were there, but sleep was lost. Fev'rish, for want of rest, I rose, and walked, And, by the moon-shine, to the windows went; There, thinking to exclude him from my thoughts, I cast my eyes upon the neighbouring fields, And, ere I was aware, sighed to myself,— There ...
— The Works of John Dryden, Vol. 6 (of 18) - Limberham; Oedipus; Troilus and Cressida; The Spanish Friar • John Dryden
... The busy crowds that hover near, Torment his eye, distract his ear; He hastens to the secret shades, Where not a ray the gloom pervades; Where Contemplation may retreat, And Silence take his mossy seat; Yet even there no peace he knows, His fev'rish blood, no calmer flows; Some hid assassins 'vengeful knife, Is rais'd to end his wretched life. He shudders, starts, and stares around, With breathless fright, to catch the fancied sound; Seeks for the dagger in his breast, And gripes it 'neath ...
— Elegies and Other Small Poems • Matilda Betham |
