English Literary Miscellany, Volumen1

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Bibliotheca sacra Company, 1914 - 320 páginas

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Página 216 - There was a time when, though my path was rough, This joy within me dallied with distress, And all misfortunes were but as the stuff Whence Fancy made me dreams of happiness: For hope grew round me, like the twining vine, And fruits and foliage, not my own, seemed mine.
Página 294 - Milton ! thou shouldst be living at this hour : England hath need of thee : she is a fen Of stagnant waters : altar, sword, and pen, Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower, Have forfeited their ancient English dower Of inward happiness. We are selfish men; Oh! raise us up, return to us again; And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Página 196 - NUNS fret not at their convent's narrow room ; And hermits are contented with their cells , And students with their pensive citadels , Maids at the wheel, the weaver at his loom, Sit blithe and happy ; bees that soar for bloom, High as the highest Peak of Furness-fells, Will murmur by the hour in foxglove bells...
Página 177 - O miserable Chieftain ! where and when Wilt thou find patience ? Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow : Though fallen thyself, never to rise again, Live, and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee ; air, earth, and skies There 's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee ; thou hast great allies ; Thy friends are exultations, agonies, And love, and man's unconquerable mind.
Página 169 - Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer Right onward.
Página 166 - Most glorious Lord of life, that on this day didst make thy triumph over death and sin; and having harrowed hell, didst bring away captivity thence captive, us to win...
Página 176 - I thought of thee, my partner and my guide, As being past away. — Vain sympathies! For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes, I see what was, and is, and will abide; Still glides the stream, and shall for ever glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies...
Página 242 - The sounding cataract Haunted me like a passion : the tall rock, The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood, Their colours and their forms, were then to me An appetite ; a feeling and a love, That had no need of a remoter charm, By thought supplied, nor any interest Unborrowed from the eye.
Página 312 - Our little systems have their day; They have their day and cease to be; They are but broken lights of thee, And thou, O Lord, art more than they.
Página 179 - Sleepless! and soon the small birds' melodies Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees; And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry. Even thus last night, and two nights more, I lay, And could not win thee, Sleep! by any stealth: So do not let me wear...

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