Select Journal of Foreign Periodical Literature, Band 2

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Andrews Norton, Charles Folsom
Charles Bowen, 1833
 

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Seite 179 - The garlands wither on your brow; Then boast no more your mighty deeds; Upon Death's purple altar now See where the victor- victim bleeds: Your heads must come To the cold tomb. Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in their dust.
Seite 183 - O ye, who patiently explore The wreck of Herculanean lore, What rapture ! could ye seize Some Theban fragment, or unroll One precious, tender-hearted, scroll Of pure Simonides.
Seite 98 - It were better for, him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and he cast into the sea, than that he should offend one of these little ones.
Seite 66 - Thou therefore, my son, be strong in the grace that is in Christ Jesus. And the things that thou hast heard of me among many witnesses, the same commit thou to faithful men, who shall be able to teach others also.
Seite 18 - Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company! — To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay!
Seite 110 - Camelot; And up and down the people go Gazing where the lilies blow Round an island there below, The island of Shalott. Willows whiten, aspens quiver, Little breezes dusk and shiver Thro...
Seite 179 - THE glories of our blood and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against Fate; Death lays his icy hand on kings: Sceptre and Crown Must tumble down, And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill : But their strong nerves at last must yield ; They tame but one another still : Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath When they, pale captives,...
Seite 119 - TO CHRISTOPHER NORTH. You did late review my lays, Crusty Christopher; You did mingle blame and praise, Rusty Christopher. When I learnt from whom it came, I forgave you all the blame, Musty Christopher ; I could not forgive the praise, Fusty Christopher.
Seite 111 - Turned to towered Camelot; For ere she reached upon the tide The first house by the water-side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott.
Seite 192 - To think so, and the pleasure of a kingdom : While your own will commanded what should move Delights, your husband's love and power joined To give your life more harmony. You...

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