The Seaboard and the Down; Or, My Parish in the South

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Rivington, 1860

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Seite 71 - ... cometh to you with words set in delightful proportion, either accompanied with, or prepared for, the well-enchanting skill of music; and with a tale, forsooth, he cometh unto you, with a tale which holdeth children from play and old men from the chimney corner...
Seite 252 - Have respect unto the covenant : for the dark places of the earth are full of the habitations of cruelty.
Seite 178 - And when Joseph had taken the body, he wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and laid it in his own new tomb, which he had hewn out in the rock; and he rolled a great stone to the door of the sepulchre, and departed.
Seite 343 - It is the little rift within the lute, That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
Seite 114 - When God hath shower'd the earth ; so lovely seem'd That landscape : and of pure, now purer air Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires Vernal delight and joy, able to drive All sadness but despair : now gentle gales, Fanning their odoriferous wings, dispense Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole Those balmy spoils.
Seite 220 - And one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, and with a loud voice glorified God, and fell down on his face at his feet, giving him thanks; and he was a Samaritan. And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed ? but where are the nine ? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger.
Seite 348 - And ever, against eating cares, Lap me in soft Lydian airs, Married to immortal verse, Such as the meeting soul may pierce, In notes with many a winding bout Of linked sweetness long drawn out With wanton heed and giddy cunning, The melting voice through mazes running, Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony ; That Orpheus...
Seite 144 - O but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain. For they breathe truth that breathe their words in pain.
Seite 344 - I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet...
Seite 188 - Robed in the sable garb of woe, With haggard eyes the Poet stood ; Loose his beard, and hoary hair Stream'd, like a meteor, to the troubled air And, with a Master's hand, and Prophet's fire, Struck the deep sorrows of his lyre.

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