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Seite 162 - THE boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but him had fled; The flame that lit the battle's wreck Shone round him o'er the dead. Yet beautiful and bright he stood, As born to rule the storm; A creature of heroic blood, A proud though childlike form.
Seite 371 - The treasures of the deep are not so precious As are the concealed comforts of a man Locked up in woman's love. I scent the air Of blessings, when I come but near the house. What a delicious breath marriage sends forth. . . The violet bed's not sweeter.
Seite 611 - Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth.
Seite 474 - Those notes to tragic ; foul distrust, and breach Disloyal, on the part of man, revolt And disobedience : on the part of heaven, Now alienated, distance and distaste, Anger, and just rebuke, and judgment given, That brought into this world a world of woe ; Sin and her shadow death, and misery, Death's harbinger.
Seite 23 - And immediately I was in the spirit; and behold, a throne was set in heaven, and one sat on the throne ; and he that sat was to look upon like a jasper and a sardine stone ; and there was a rainbow round about the throne, in sight like unto an emerald.
Seite 612 - The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side, His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Seite 23 - AFTER this I looked,, and, behold, a door was opened in heaven : and the first voice which I heard was as it were of a trumpet talking with me; which said, Come up hither, and I will shew thee things which must be hereafter.
Seite 288 - Where many an image of marble gleams, And the sunshine of picture for ever streams." " Oh ! preen is the turf where my brothers play, Through the long bright hours of the summer day ; They find the red cup-moss where they climb, And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme, And the rockswhere the heath-flower blooms they know.
Seite 375 - The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices Make instruments to plague us: The dark and vicious place where thee he got Cost him his eyes.
Seite 541 - Hath soothed me with its lay. The isles of Greece, the hills of Spain, The purple heavens of Rome, — Yes, all are glorious; — yet again I bless thee, land of home ! For thine the Sabbath peace, my land ! And thine the guarded hearth ; And thine the dead, the noble band, That make thee holy earth. Their voices meet me in thy breeze; Their steps are on thy plains; Their names, by old majestic trees, Are whisper'd round thy fanes.