The Pocket magazine of classic and polite literature. [Continued as] The Pocket magazine

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Seite 263 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own, When, for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown.
Seite 251 - I AM monarch of all I survey, My right there is none to dispute ; From the centre all round to the sea I am lord of the fowl and the brute.
Seite 192 - is the key of heaven and of hell; a drop of blood shed in the cause of God, a night spent in arms, is of more avail than two months of fasting and prayer; whosoever falls in battle, his sins are forgiven; at the day of judgment his wounds shall be resplendent as vermilion, and odoriferous as musk; and the loss of his limbs shall be supplied by the wings of angels and cherubim.
Seite 148 - For while with their knife which they hold in one hand they cut the meate out of the dish, they fasten their forke which they hold in their other hand upon the same dish...
Seite 257 - There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore. There is society where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar; I love not man the less, but nature more...
Seite 67 - And the king was much moved, and went up to the chamber over the gate, and wept: and as he went, thus he said, O my son Absalom, my son, my son Absalom!
Seite 291 - Thou need'st nor helm nor cuirass, now, —Beyond the Grecian hero's boast, — Thou wilt not quail thy naked brow, Nor shrink before a myriad host, — For head and heel alike are sound, A thousand arrows cannot wound ! Thy mother is not in thy dreams, With that wild...
Seite 40 - He seems indeed to be the model of that perfect character, which, under the denomination of a sage or wise man, philosophers have been fond of delineating, rather as a fiction of their imagination, than in hopes of ever seeing it really existing...
Seite 256 - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, Calm or convulsed; in breeze or gale or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving, boundless, endless, and sublime, — The image of Eternity, the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
Seite 140 - I look for Ghosts; but none will force Their way to me: — 'tis falsely said That there was ever intercourse Between the living and the dead; For, surely, then I should have sight Of Him I wait for day and night, With love and longings infinite.

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