First Impressions of England and Its People

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J. Johnstone, 1847 - Всего страниц: 411
 

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Стр. 251 - First, I commend my soul into the hands of God my creator, hoping, and assuredly believing, through the only merits of Jesus Christ my Saviour, to be made partaker of life everlasting; and my body to the earth whereof it is made.
Стр. 343 - Tis a note of enchantment ; what ails her ? She sees A mountain ascending, a vision of trees; Bright volumes of vapour through Lothbury glide, And a river flows on through the vale of Cheapside.
Стр. 307 - And there went a man of the house of Levi, and took to wife a daughter of Levi. And the woman conceived, and bare a son: and when she saw him that he was a goodly child, she hid him three months.
Стр. 272 - Within the twilight of their distant shades; There, lost behind a rising ground, the wood Seems sunk, and shortened to its topmost boughs. No tree in all the grove but has its charms, Though each its hue peculiar; paler some.
Стр. 49 - mid th' unrustling reed, At those mirk hours the wily monster lies, And listens oft to hear the passing steed, And frequent round him rolls his sullen eyes, If chance his savage wrath may some weak wretch surprise.
Стр. 209 - Westward the course of empire takes its way, The four first acts already past, A fifth shall close the drama with the day : Time's noblest offspring is the last.
Стр. 271 - So strong the zeal to immortalize himself Beats in the breast of man, that e'en a few, Few transient years, won from th' abyss abhorr'd Of blank oblivion, seem a glorious prize, And even to a clown. Now roves the eye ; And, posted on this speculative height, Exults in its command. The sheepfold here Pours out its fleecy tenants o'er the glebe.
Стр. 307 - And when she could not longer hide him, she took for him an ark of bulrushes, and daubed it with slime and with pitch, and put the child therein ; and she laid it in the flags by the river's brink.
Стр. 21 - Looking tranquillity ! It strikes an awe And terror on my aching sight ; the tombs And monumental caves of death look cold, And shoot a chilness to my trembling heart.
Стр. 114 - Her speech was the melodious voice of Love, Her song the warbling of the vernal grove ; Her eloquence was sweeter than her song, Soft as her heart, and as her reason strong; Her form each beauty of her mind express'd, Her mind was Virtue by the Graces dress'd.

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