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Seite 42 - Whither shall I go then from thy spirit ? or whither shall I go then from thy presence ? If I climb up into heaven, thou art there ; if I go down to hell, thou art there also.
Seite 419 - Imperial Caesar, dead and turned to clay, Might stop a hole to keep the wind away: O, that that earth, which kept the world in awe, Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw!
Seite 419 - Arranged to meet the requirements of the Syllabus of the Science and Art Department of the Committee of Council on Education, South Kensington.
Seite 451 - ... alarm the reckless extravagance which pervades every department of the Federal Government ; that a return to rigid economy and accountability is indispensable to arrest the...
Seite 481 - In an arm-chair, with an elbow resting on the table and her head leaning on that hand, sat the strangest lady I have ever seen, or shall ever see. She was dressed in rich materials — satins, and lace, and silks — all of white. Her shoes were white. And she had a long white veil dependent from her hair, and she had bridal flowers in her hair, but her hair was white.
Seite 372 - ... Queen Mary took the resolution of sheltering herself in England, the Archbishop of St. Andrew's, attempting to dissuade her, attended on her journey ; and when they came to the irremeable stream that separated the two kingdoms, walked by her side into the water, in the middle of which he seized her bridle, and with earnestness proportioned to her danger and his own affection pressed her to return. The Queen went forward. If the parallel reaches thus far, may it go no farther. — The tears stand...
Seite 483 - The marshes were just a long black horizontal line then, as I stopped to look after him; and the river was just another horizontal line, not nearly so broad nor yet so black; and the sky was just a row of long angry red lines and dense black lines intermixed.
Seite 16 - Our wassel we do fill With apples and with spice. Then grant us your good will To taste here once or twice Of our good wassel.
Seite 312 - Fill the wide circle of th' eternal year: Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime : The fields are florid with unfading prime: From the bleak pole no winds inclement blow, Mould the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow; But from the breezy deep the blest inhale The fragrant murmurs of the western gale.