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Updated: May 11, 2025
Around thy brow a glory she hath thrown; The heart 'twas formed thee, ever thou'lt live on! The world delights whate'er is bright to stain, And in the dust to lay the glorious low; Yet fear not! noble bosoms still remain, That for the lofty, for the radiant glow Let Momus serve to fill the booth with mirth; A nobler mind loves forms of nobler worth.
CHARLES. Rumor doth speak your court the seat of love, The mart where all that's beautiful must tarry. BURGUNDY. We are a traffic-loving people, sire; Whate'er of costly earth's wide realms produce, For show and for enjoyment, is displayed Upon our mart at Bruges; but above all There woman's beauty is pre-eminent.
I eagerly turned over the pages of Paracelsus, read a few verses to myself, and then exclaimed: "I know what it is, Job. The inner voice is the voice of truth." And I read aloud the verses in which Paracelsus, that eager quest after truth, speaks his mind to his friend Festus: Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate'er you may believe.
But if any man is overmuch desirous to depart homewards, let him lay his hand upon his decked black ship, that before all men he may encounter death and fate. But do thou, my king, take good counsel thyself, and whate'er it be, shall not be cast away. Separate thy warriors by tribes and by clans, Agamemnon, that clan may give aid to clan and tribe to tribe.
The ceremony connected with the song was a drinking ceremony. Here's a health unto our master, The founder of the feast; Here's a health unto our master And to our mistress! And may his doings prosper, Whate'er he takes in hand, For we are all his servants, And are at his command.
She then told her rosary with devout fervour, and retiring from the chapel to her own apartment, summoned her women to adjust her dress, and remove the external appearance of the violence to which she had been so lately subjected. Julia. Gentle sir, You are our captive but we'll use you so, That you shall think your prison joys may match Whate'er your liberty hath known of pleasure. Roderick.
Yet though my happy lot was so, Joyful, I homeward from it go, No less content, when poor and low, Than here you find your PAMELA. For what indeed is happiness, But conscience innocence and peace? And that's a treasure I possess; Thank Heaven that gave it PAMELA. My future lot I cannot know But this I'm sure, where'er I go, Whate'er I am, whate'er I do, I'll be the grateful PAMELA.
It was the tower of Bemerside, the baronial residence of the Haigs, or De Hagas, one of the oldest families of the border. "There had seemed to him," he said, "almost a wizard spell hanging over it, in consequence of a prophecy of Thomas the Rhymer, in which, in his young days, he most potently believed:" "Betide, betide, whate'er betide, Haig shall be Haig of Bemerside."
"Why, I really don't quite recollect; but I feel very hungry," replied the optician, putting in his plate to receive two large slices; and father and son sat down to a hearty meal, proving the truth of the wise man's observation, that, "Better is a dinner of herbs where love is, than the stalled ox and hatred therewith." Whate'er it be, 'Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight.
Their beauty stirs all those that see to passion and to love: Good luck to them, for that they move to ravishment divine! In grace and beauty they increase and aye more perfect grow: All souls yearn out to them for love, all hearts to them incline. Blessed be God, whose creatures are so full of wonderment! Whate'er He wills He fashions forth, even as He doth design.
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