 | 1885 - 52 Seiten
...fierce conflict over, the nation dwells in peace, and may this ADDRESS OF ME. POST, OF PENNSYLVANIA. 19 peace be emblematical of the peaceful repose of his...resurrection none can be in nobler company. He has ontsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall... | |
 | 1889 - 552 Seiten
...grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay. He has outsoared the shadow of our night : Envy and calumny, and hate arid pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight Can touch him not, and torture not again : From... | |
 | James George Cotton Minchin - 1901 - 488 Seiten
...add the word "self" to the epithet "righteous". Of Shelley the poet his own words have proved true. He has outsoared the shadow of our night, Envy and calumny, and hate and paiu, And that unrest, which men miscall delight, Can touch him not, nor torture him again. Shelley... | |
 | Frederick Earle Emmons, Thomas Waterman Huntington - 1928 - 454 Seiten
...grief Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay. XL He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate arid pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From... | |
 | Arthur Beatty - 1928 - 582 Seiten
...Convulse us and consume us day by day, And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay. XL He1 has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate arid pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From... | |
 | Illinois State Bar Association - 1884 - 190 Seiten
...conqueror. The casket remains, but the jewel is gone. Our friend has taken his last journey on earth. " He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny, and hate^nd pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight. Can touch him not, and torture not again.... | |
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Envy and calumny and hate arid pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again; From the contagion of the world's slow stain He is secure, and now can never mourn A heart grown cold, a head grown gray in vain... 