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Updated: May 24, 2025
"Nell, the devil's in your heart," replied Meehaul, "if ever he was in mortal's. Lave me, woman: I can't bear your revengeful spirit, an' what is more, I don't want you to interfere in this business, good, bad, or indifferent. You bring about harm, Nell; but who has ever known you to do good?" "Ay! ay!" said the hag, "that's the cuckoo song to Nell; she does harm, but never does good!
His spies, descending from the skies, glide all this world around, Their thousand eyes all-scanning sweep to earth's remotest bound. Whate'er exists in heaven and earth, whate'er beyond the skies, Before the eyes of Varuna, the king, unfolded lies. The ceaseless winkings all he counts of every mortal's eyes, He wields this universal frame as gamester throws his dice.
they fly into each other's arms, and both drop down dead for joy. There is a soft aera in every gentle mortal's life, where such a story affords more pabulum to the brain, than all the Frusts, and Crusts, and Rusts of antiquity, which travellers can cook up for it.
Q. Catulus, my friend and colleague's father, was enamored with your fellow-citizen Roscius, on whom he wrote these verses: As once I stood to hail the rising day, Roscius appearing on the left I spied: Forgive me, Gods, if I presume to say The mortal's beauty with th' immortal vied. Roscius more beautiful than a God! yet he was then, as he now is, squint-eyed.
It is for his manliness that we love him, for his honesty, for his indifference to any mortal's approval save that of Thomas Carlyle. He convinces us that right thinking is good, but that right doing is much better. And so it is that he does honour to men of action like his beloved Oliver, and Fritz, neither of them paragons of wisdom or of goodness, but men of doughty deeds.
What art of mine can lengthen out thy day? can I contend with this ominous thing? Now, now I quit the field. Dismay not my terrors, disastrous birds; I know these beating wings, and the sound of death, nor do I miss high-hearted Jove's haughty ordinance. Is this his repayment for my maidenhood? what good is his gift of life for ever? why have I forfeited a mortal's lot?
Mac looked up. But the Boy was too tired to play the big fish any longer. "I wonder if you'll do something for me." He watched with a sinking heart Mac's sharp uprising from the worshipful attitude. It was not like any other mortal's gradual, many-jointed getting-up; it was more like the sudden springing out of the big blade of a clasp-knife. "What's your game?"
Yes, soul of Harold! there are might and holiness in the blessing the soul thou hast redeemed and reared sheds on thee!" And so beautiful, so unlike the Beautiful of the common earth, looked the maid as she thus spoke, and laid hands, trembling with no human passion, on that royal head-that could a soul from paradise be made visible, such might be the shape it would wear to a mortal's eye!
My father begg'd and intreated, she would for once recede from her prerogative in this matter, and suffer him to choose for her; my mother, on the contrary, insisted upon her privilege in this matter, to choose for herself, and have no mortal's help but the old woman's. What could my father do?
The following lines are from the "Childe Harold" of Byron: "Now turning to the Vatican go see Laocoon's torture dignifying pain; A father's love and mortal's agony With an immortal's patience blending; vain The struggle! vain against the coiling strain And gripe and deepening of the dragon's grasp The old man's clinch; the long envenomed chain Rivets the living links; the enormous asp Enforces pang on pang and stifles gasp on gasp."
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