The gardener did as he was bid, and soon placed the cradle in the hands of the intendant.
And, bidding the man pick up the cradle and follow him, he turned towards home.
is such a nice homely thing to have about a house.
What other sort of soul, then, would you expect from `a comic little figure hopping from the cradle
to the grave'?
They find him sitting by the cradle singing a lullaby to the new-born baby, while Gill lies in bed groaning and pretending to be very ill.
I swear if ever I you beguiled, that I eat this child that lies in this cradle.
One wants to kiss the baby, and bends over the cradle.
And he took the hollow lyre and laid it in his sacred cradle, and sprang from the sweet-smelling hall to a watch-place, pondering sheet trickery in his heart -- deeds such as knavish folk pursue in the dark night-time; for he longed to taste flesh.
Then glorious Hermes went hurriedly to his cradle, wrapping his swaddling clothes about his shoulders as though he were a feeble babe, and lay playing with the covering about his knees; but at his left hand he kept close his sweet lyre.
254-259) `Child, lying in the cradle, make haste and tell me of my cattle, or we two will soon fall out angrily.
But come now, if you would not sleep your last and latest sleep, get out of your cradle, you comrade of dark night.
And as soon as he had shut them up quietly, and had gone home by crafty turns and twists, he lay down in his cradle in the gloom of a dim cave, as still as dark night, so that not even an eagle keenly gazing would have spied him.
So he rocked the cradle with his foot; made a face at the rebel in the clothes-basket, which put him in high good-humour directly; and stoutly determined to be talkative and make himself agreeable.
The baby in the cradle woke up and cried; the boy in the clothes-basket fell over on his back with the basket upon him, and was seen no more; the mother wept louder yet and rocked faster; but Kit, insensible to all the din and tumult, remained in a state of utter stupefaction.
THERE grew a fragrant rose-tree where the brook flows, With two little tender buds, and one full rose; When the sun went down to his bed in the west, The little buds leaned on the rose-mother's breast, While the bright eyed stars their long watch kept, And the flowers of the valley in their green cradles
slept; Then silently in odors they communed with each otber, The two little buds on the bosom of their mother.