A guide to the coasts of Hants & Dorset

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Edward Stanford, 1859 - 13 Seiten
 

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Seite 325 - To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; Its choir the winds and waves — its organ thunder — Its dome the sky.
Seite 272 - It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak; She ran upon no rock. His sword was in its sheath, His fingers held the pen, When Kempenfelt went down With twice four hundred men.
Seite 337 - Did you not observe how, as that white sail shot by and was lost, he turned and crossed himself to drive the tempter from him that had thrown that distraction in his way ? I should tell you that the ferryman who rowed me, a lusty young fellow, told me that he would not for 'all the world pass a night at the abbey (there were such things seen near it) though there was a power of money hid there.
Seite 323 - There then had she found a grave! Within that chest had she concealed herself, Fluttering with joy, the happiest of the happy; When a spring-lock, that lay in ambush there, Fastened her down for ever!
Seite 335 - Streaming from off the sun like seraph's wings, Now yawns all desolate: now loud, now fainter, The gale sweeps through its fretwork, and oft sings The owl his anthem, where the silenced quire Lie with their hallelujahs quench'd like fire.
Seite 326 - twere anew, the gaps of centuries ; Leaving that beautiful which still was so, And making that which was not, till the place Became religion, and the heart ran o'er With silent worship of the great of old ! — The dead, but sceptred sovereigns, who still rule Our spirits from their urns.
Seite 347 - Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bay, With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals Of fish, that with their fins and shining scales Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft Bank the mid sea...
Seite 257 - His infant muse, though artless, was not mute. Of elegance as yet he took no care ; For this of time and culture is the fruit ; And Edwin gained at last this fruit so rare : As in some future verse I purpose to declare.
Seite 285 - IN that building, long and low, With its windows all a-row, Like the port-holes of a hulk, Human spiders spin and spin, Backward down their threads so thin Dropping, each a hempen bulk. At the end, an open door ; Squares of sunshine on the floor Light the long and dusky lane ; And the whirring of a wheel, Dull and drowsy, makes me feel All its spokes are in my brain. As the spinners to the end Downward go and reascend...
Seite 406 - For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly warflame spread, High on St. Michael's Mount it shone: it shone on Beachy Head. Far on the deep the Spaniard saw, along each southern shire, Cape beyond cape, in endless range, those twinkling points of fire.

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