Damascus and Palmyra: a journey to the East, with a sketch of the state and prospects of Syria under Ibrahim pasha

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R. Bentley, 1838 - 440 Seiten
 

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Seite 15 - Tis Greece, but living Greece no more! So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. Hers is the loveliness in death, That parts not quite with parting breath; But beauty with that fearful bloom, That hue which haunts it to the tomb...
Seite 336 - Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place, except thou repent.
Seite 136 - Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn ; Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen. And Desolation saddens all thy green : One only master grasps the whole domain, And half a tillage...
Seite 110 - Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run, Along Morea's hills the setting sun: Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright, But one unclouded blaze of living light!
Seite 287 - Saying, I am Alpha and Omega, the first and the last: and, What thou seest, write in a book, and send it unto the seven churches which are in Asia; unto Ephesus, and unto Smyrna, and unto Pergamos, and unto Thyatira, and unto Sardis, and unto Philadelphia, and unto Laodicea.
Seite 296 - I know thy works : behold, I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it...
Seite 290 - Be watchful, and strengthen the things which remain, that are ready to die. For I have not found thy works perfect before God.
Seite xiii - ... and the angel of God called to Hagar out of heaven, and said unto her, What aileth thee, Hagar ? fear not ; for God hath heard the voice of the lad where he is. Arise, lift up the lad, and hold him in thine hand ; for I will make him a great nation.
Seite 90 - Thither no more the peasant shall repair To sweet oblivion of his daily care ; No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale, No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail ; No more the smith his dusky brow shall clear, Relax his ponderous strength, and lean to hear...
Seite 113 - And the. lull'd winds seem dreaming : And the midnight moon is weaving Her bright chain o'er the deep ; Whose breast is gently heaving, As an infant's asleep : So the spirit bows before thee, To listen and adore thee ; With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean.

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