England's Antiphon

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Macmillan, 1868 - 332 Seiten
 

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Seite 207 - The Oracles are dumb ; No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell, Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.
Seite 72 - Give me my scallop-shell of quiet, My staff of faith to walk upon, My scrip of joy, immortal diet, My bottle of salvation, My gown of glory, hope's true gage ; And thus I'll take my pilgrimage.
Seite 122 - Death, be not proud, though some have called thee Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow, Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. From rest and sleep, which but thy...
Seite 310 - Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, GOD!
Seite 139 - Man is his own star; and the soul that can Render an honest and a perfect man, Commands all light, all influence, all fate; Nothing to him falls early or too late. Our acts our angels are, or good or ill, Our fatal shadows that walk by us still.
Seite 248 - See, how the orient dew, Shed from the bosom of the morn, Into the blowing roses, (Yet careless of its mansion new, For the clear region where 'twas born,) Round in itself incloses And, in its little globe's extent, Frames, as it can, its native element. How it the purple flower does slight, Scarce touching where it lies ; But gazing back upon the skies, Shines with a mournful light, Like its own tear, Because so long divided from the sphere.
Seite 310 - Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky-pointing peaks, Oft from whose feet the avalanche, unheard, Shoots downward, glittering through the pure serene Into the depth of clouds, that veil thy breast — Thou too again, stupendous Mountain!
Seite 205 - For if such holy song Enwrap our fancy long, Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold; And speckled vanity Will sicken soon and die, And leprous sin will melt from earthly mould; And Hell itself will pass away, And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day.
Seite 287 - Through this day's life or death. This day, be bread and peace my lot: All else beneath the sun, Thou know'st if best bestowed or not; And let Thy will be done.
Seite 267 - He that is down needs fear no fall, He that is low, no pride; He that is humble, ever shall Have God to be his guide.

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