Varia: Readings from Rare Books

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S. Low, son, and Marston, 1866 - 341 Seiten
 

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Seite 97 - Oh, thou art fairer than the evening air Clad in, the beauty of a thousand stars...
Seite 97 - Was this the face that launched a thousand ships And burnt the topless towers of Ilium ? Sweet Helen, make me immortal with a kiss.
Seite 144 - Where throngs of knights and barons bold, In weeds of peace, high triumphs hold, With store of ladies, whose bright eyes Rain influence, and judge the prize Of wit or arms, while both contend To win her grace whom all commend.
Seite 231 - Laud be to God ! — even there my life must end. It hath been prophesied to me many years, I should not die but in Jerusalem ; Which vainly I suppos'd the Holy Land : — But, bear me to that chamber ; there I'll lie ; In that Jerusalem shall Harry die.
Seite 192 - They live no longer in the faith of reason! But still the heart doth need a language, still Doth the old instinct bring back the old names...
Seite 247 - To hear her weeping by his grave ? 'Where wert thou, brother, those four days?' There lives no record of reply, Which telling what it is to die Had surely added praise to praise. From every house the neighbours met, The streets were fill'd with joyful sound, A solemn gladness even crown'd The purple brows of Olivet.
Seite 268 - At the sight of a cross or crucifix I can dispense with my hat, but scarce with the thought or memory of my Saviour.
Seite 93 - Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place ; for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be...

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