English Sacred Poetry of the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, Eighteenth, and Nineteenth Centuries

Передняя обложка
Robert Aris Willmott
Routledge, Warne, & Routledge, 1863 - Всего страниц: 387

Результаты поиска по книге

Отзывы - Написать отзыв

Не удалось найти ни одного отзыва.

Другие издания - Просмотреть все

Часто встречающиеся слова и выражения

Популярные отрывки

Стр. 27 - Fear no more the frown o' the great; Thou art past the tyrant's stroke; Care no more to clothe and eat; To thee the reed is as the oak : The sceptre, learning, physic, must All follow this, and come to dust. Fear no more the...
Стр. 233 - And stopped at once amid their maddest plunge! Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Who made you glorious as the Gates of Heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flowers Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? — GOD! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, GOD!
Стр. 178 - Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear : Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th...
Стр. 182 - One morn I missed him on the customed hill, Along the heath and near his favorite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; "The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the churchway path we saw him borne. Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay, Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.
Стр. 101 - These are Thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ! Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable ; who sitt'st above these heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Стр. 102 - His praise, ye winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave. Fountains, and ye that warble as ye flow, Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise. Join voices, all ye living souls ; ye birds, That singing up to heaven-gate ascend, Bear on your wings and in your notes his praise.
Стр. 68 - IN the hour of my distress, When temptations me oppress, And when I my sins confess, Sweet Spirit, comfort me ! When I lie within my bed, Sick in heart and sick in head, And with doubts discomforted, Sweet Spirit, comfort me...
Стр. 102 - Rising or falling still advance his praise. His praise, ye Winds, that from four quarters blow, Breathe soft or loud ; and, wave your tops, ye Pines, With every plant, in sign of worship wave.
Стр. 252 - Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed...
Стр. 326 - BY Nebo's lonely mountain, On this side Jordan's wave, In a vale in the land of Moab There lies a lonely grave. And no man knows that sepulchre, And no man saw it e'er, For the angels of God upturned the sod, And laid the dead man there.

Библиографические данные