Read "The Fortunes of Perkin Warbeck" by Mary Shelley online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Tempestuous Fortune hath spent all her spite. And thrilling Sorrow thrown his utmost dart Thy sad tongue cannot tell more heavy plight Than that I feel and harbour in my heart. --SPENSER.
The morning of the first of November dawned; a cheery day. Men went to their usual works: the earth, despoiled of her summer garniture, yet bore the change with sober content; for the sun shone, and soft airs, despite the coming winter, lightly shook the scant and altered foliage of the woods: All rose to do the task He set to each. Who shaped us to his ends, and not our own. And many rose Whose woe was such, that fear became desire.