The Recreations of Christopher North [pseud.] ...

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William Blackwood & Sons, 1878 - Всего страниц: 307
 

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Стр. 77 - Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise.
Стр. 78 - The Lord's my shepherd, I'll not want. He makes me down to lie In pastures green ; he leadeth me The quiet waters by.
Стр. 79 - These are they which were not defiled with women; for they are virgins; these are they which follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. These were redeemed from among men, being the first-fruits unto God and to the Lamb.
Стр. 271 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy. Then comes THY glory in the Summer months...
Стр. 354 - All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame. Oft in my waking dreams do I Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.
Стр. 52 - In regions mild of calm and serene air, Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot Which men call Earth, and, with low-thoughted care.
Стр. 42 - Whatever is great, desirable, or tremendous, is comprised in the name of the Supreme Being. Omnipotence cannot be exalted; Infinity cannot be amplified; Perfection cannot be improved.
Стр. 60 - So still an image of tranquillity, So calm and still, and looked so beautiful Amid the uneasy thoughts which filled my mind...
Стр. 41 - The essence of poetry is invention ; such invention as, by producing something unexpected, surprises and delights. The topics of devotion are few, and being few are universally known ; but few as they are, they can be made no more ; they can receive no grace from novelty of sentiment, and very little from novelty of expression.
Стр. 275 - Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun Can pierce the war-clouds, rolling dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout in their sulphurous canopy. The combat deepens. On, ye brave, Who rush to glory, or the grave ! Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, And charge with all thy chivalry.

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