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Thus having said, resigning up his breath To him that gave 't, his feet into the bed He drew, and so was number'd to the dead. And Joseph fell upon his father's face, And did with tears his lifeless lips embrace: And sends for his physicians and advises Them to embalm his father's corpse with spices. And they did so, and forty days did pass.
'The tempest-god's pinions o'ershadow the sky, The waves leap to welcome the storm that is nigh, Through the hall of old Odin re-echo the shocks That the fierce ocean hurls at his rampart of rocks, As, alone on the crags that soar up from the sands, With his virgin SIONA the young AGNAR stands; Tears sprinkle their dew on the sad maiden's cheeks, And the voice of the chieftain sinks low while he speaks: "Crippled in the fight for ever, Number'd with the worse than slain; Weak, deform'd, disabled! never Can I join the hosts again!
The sands are number'd, that make up my life; Here must I stay, and here my life must end. When Raymond Berenger had despatched his mission to the Prince of Powys, he was not unsuspicious, though altogether fearless, of the result.
I have on my own part made it my care and study that the things which I shall propound should not only be true, but should also be presented to men's minds, how strangely soever preoccupied and obstructed, in a manner not harsh or unpleasant. From the most able, to him that can but spell: There you are number'd. We had rather you were weighd.
For awhile I did hope that these melancholic affections were ye fruit put forth by a regenerate soul; but within this month last past it has been my sorrow to discover that these gloomy disorders arise rather from ye promptings of the Evil One. It has pleased Mr. Haygarthe of late to declare that his life is nigh at an end; and indeed he affects a conviction that his days are number'd.
Sweet pliability of man's spirit, that can at once surrender itself to illusions, which cheat expectation and sorrow of their weary moments! Long, long since had ye number'd out my days, had I not trod so great a part of them upon this enchanted ground.
Who knows her not? Ah, those are Wortley's eyes. How art thou honour'd, number'd with her friends; For she distinguishes the good and wise." Pope, too, wrote of her with appreciation: TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGU In beauty or wit, No mortal as yet To question your empire has dared. But men of discerning Have thought that in learning, To yield to a lady was hard.
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