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Albert Alps arms Art thou battle beauty birth blaze bliss blood blow brave breast breath Breath of heaven breeze burn'd cantons charms clouds cold country's dark daughter dead dear death despair earth Edmund enchantment eternal expiring faithless fathers fell fire Fire from heaven flame fled flood flowers foes fond Friend Gallia's Gaul glory grave grief Hark head heart heaven hoary hope and fear horror hurl'd Lake land light Lyre morn Mother mountains mournful Muse's Nature's night numbers o'er Ocean pale peace plain poor repose rest return'd rill rise roam rocks rose round scene seem'd shade Shep Sire skies slain slaves sleep smile soft Sorrow soul Spirit star storm sweet sweetly Swiss tears tempest thee thine thou Thrice tomb Twas Underwalden vale Valley Vengeance voice Wand WANDERER OF SWITZERLAND waves weary weep Wife wild wilderness wind wounds youth
Стр. 80 - THERE is a calm for those who weep, A rest for weary pilgrims found, They softly lie and sweetly sleep Low in the ground.
Стр. 176 - The changing spirits' rise and fall, We know that these were felt by him, For these are felt by all. He suffered, — but his pangs are o'er ; Enjoyed,— but his delights are fled ; Had friends, — his friends are now no more ; And foes, — his foes are dead. He...
Стр. 177 - The clouds and sunbeams, o'er his eye That once their shades and glory threw, Have left in yonder silent sky No vestige where they flew.
Стр. 73 - The soul, of origin divine, God's glorious image freed from clay, In heaven's eternal sphere shall shine A star of day ! The sun is but a spark of fire, A transient meteor in the sky ; The soul, immortal as its Sire, SHALL NEVER DIE!
Стр. 76 - LIVE ! — repent and pray ; In dust thine infamy deplore ; There yet is mercy ; — go thy way, And sin no more.
Стр. 75 - Ah! think not, hope not, fool, to find A friend in me. •By all the terrors of the tomb. Beyond the power of tongue to tell...
Стр. 126 - Welcome to a Land of Rest ! Thus the choir of angels sing, As they bear the soul on high, While with hallelujahs ring All the regions of the sky.
Стр. 84 - All in awful judgment rise. — 0 then, innocently brave, 1 will wrestle with the wave ; Lo ! Commerce spreads the daring sail, And yokes her naval chariots to the gale. " Blow, ye breezes ! — gently blowing, Waft me to that happy shore, Where, from fountains ever flowing, Indian realms their treasures pour ; Thence returning, poor in health, Rich in honesty and wealth, O'er thee, my dear paternal soil, I'll strew the golden harvest of my toil.