Viator: Or, A Peep Into My Note Book

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Plaskitt & Cugle, 1841 - 355 стор.
 

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Сторінка 169 - Thou art the garden of the world, the home Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree ; Even in thy desert, what is like to thee ? Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste More rich than other climes' fertility ; Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Сторінка 176 - But man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes and pompous in the grave, solemnizing nativities and deaths with equal lustre, nor omitting ceremonies of bravery in the infamy of his nature.
Сторінка 308 - After his first plunge into the sea, he no sooner raised his head above the water but he found himself standing by the side of the tub, with the great men of his court about him, and the holy man at his side.
Сторінка 257 - Eternal Maker has ordain'd The powers of man; we feel within ourselves His energy divine; he tells the heart, He meant, he made us to behold and love What he beholds and loves, the general orb Of life and being; to be great like him, Beneficent and active. Thus the men Whom Nature's works can charm, with God himself Hold converse; grow familiar, day by day, With his conceptions, act upon his plan; And form to his, the relish of their souls.
Сторінка 360 - REMORSE is as the heart in which it grows : If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews Of true repentance ; but if proud and gloomy, It is a poison-tree, that pierced to the inmost Weeps only tears of poison ! Alv.
Сторінка 226 - The forms with which He sprinkles all the earth. Happy who walks with him ! whom what he finds Of flavour or of scent in fruit or flower, Or what he views of beautiful or grand In nature, from the broad, majestic oak To the green blade that twinkles in the sun, Prompts with remembrance of a present God.
Сторінка 146 - there is more joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety and nine just persons that need no repentance.
Сторінка 269 - True, I talk of dreams, Which are the children of an idle brain, Begot of nothing but vain fantasy...
Сторінка 275 - Our life is two-fold : Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence : Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality. And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy...
Сторінка 307 - Gabriel carried him away, before the water was all spilt.* There is a very pretty story in the Turkish tales, which relates to this passage of that famous impostor, and bears some affinity to the subject we are now upon. A sultan of Egypt, who was an infidel, used to laugh at this circumstance in Mahomet's life, as what was altogether impossible and absurd; but conversing one day with a great doctor in the law, who had the gift of working miracles, the doctor told him he would quickly convince him...

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