Auvergne, Piedmont, and Savoy: A Summer Ramble

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John W. Parker, 1801 - Всего страниц: 351

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Стр. 246 - Ah come not, write not, think not once of me, Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee. Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign; Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine. Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!) Long lov'd, ador'd ideas!
Стр. 136 - Insuperable height of loftiest shade, Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend Shade above shade, a woody theatre Of stateliest view.
Стр. 222 - Some say that gleams of a remoter world Visit the soul in sleep, — that death is slumber, And that its shapes the busy thoughts outnumber Of those who wake and live. — I look on high ; Has some unknown omnipotence unfurled The veil of life and death ? or do I lie In dream, and does the mightier world of sleep...
Стр. 142 - Not vainly did the early Persian make His altar the high places and the peak Of earth-o'ergazing mountains, and thus take A fit and unwall'd temple, there to seek The Spirit in whose honour shrines are weak, Uprear'd of human hands. Come and compare Columns and idol-dwellings, Goth or Greek, With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air, Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer.
Стр. 270 - AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our Fathers worshipped stocks and stones...
Стр. 117 - And angling, too, that solitary vice, Whatever Izaak Walton sings or says: The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.
Стр. 99 - This morning, dear mother, as soon as 'twas light, I was wak'd by a noise that astonish'd me quite ; For in Tabitha's chamber I heard such a clatter, I could not conceive what the deuce was the matter ; And, would you believe it, I went up and found her In a blanket, with two lusty fellows around her, Who both seem'da going to carry her off in A little black box, just the size of a coffin: Description of the Bathing. ' Pray tell me,' says I,
Стр. 139 - Then stirs the feeling, infinite, so felt In solitude, where we are least alone ; A truth, which through our being then doth melt, And purifies from self: it is a tone, The soul and source of music, which makes known Eternal harmony, and sheds a charm, Like to the fabled Cytherea's zone, Binding all things with beauty ; — 'twould disarm The spectre Death, had he substantial power to harm.
Стр. 244 - Nous ne permettons jamais aux femmes d'entrer dans notre enceinte ; car nous savons que ni le sage, ni le prophète, ni le juge, ni l'hôte de Dieu, ni ses enfans, ni même le premier modèle sorti de ses mains, n'ont pu échapper aux caresses ou aux tromperies des femmes.

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