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Seite 283 - I listened for a word ; But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard.
Seite 243 - The mountain sheep are sweeter, But the valley sheep are fatter ; We therefore deemed it meeter To carry off the latter. We made an expedition ; We met a host, and quelled it ; We forced a strong position, And killed the men who held it.
Seite 282 - But the beating of my own heart Was all the sound I heard. He came not, — no, he came not, — The night came on alone, — The little...
Seite 3 - The anguish of mind we felt at our tender years, under these straits and difficulties, was very great. To think of our father growing old (for he was now above fifty), broken down with the long-continued fatigues of his life, with a wife and five other children, and in a declining state of circumstances, these reflections produced in my brother's mind and mine sensations of the deepest distress.
Seite 188 - But thou, my babe ! shalt wander like a breeze By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the crags Of ancient mountain, and beneath the clouds, Which image in their bulk both lakes and shores And mountain crags : so shalt thou see and hear The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible Of that eternal language, which thy God Utters, who from eternity doth teach Himself in all, and all things in himself.
Seite 177 - I am more famed in heaven for my works than I could well conceive. In my brain are studies and chambers filled with books and pictures of old, which I wrote and painted in ages of Eternity, before my mortal life, and those works are the delight and study of archangels. Why, then, should I be anxious about the riches or fame of mortality ? The Lord our Father will do for us and with us according to His Divine will, for our good.
Seite 254 - Tennyson has been in town for some time : he has been making fresh poems, which are finer, they say, than any he has done. But I believe he is chiefly meditating on the purging and subliming of what he has already done : and repents that he has published at all yet. It is fine to see how in each succeeding poem the smaller ornaments and fancies drop away, and leave the grand ideas single....