Pleasant Memories of Pleasant Lands

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J. Munroe, 1844 - 373 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 243 - For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing, anxious being e'er resigned, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing, lingering look behind...
Pàgina 177 - Jesus' sake, forbeare To dig the dust enclosed here: Blessed be the man that spares these stones, And curst be he that moves my bones.
Pàgina 90 - For the Lord will not cast off for ever: But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the multitude of his mercies. For he doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men.
Pàgina 90 - How hath the Lord covered the daughter of Zion with a cloud in his anger, and cast down from heaven unto the earth the beauty of Israel, and remembered not his footstool in the day of his anger!
Pàgina 370 - God of our salvation; thou who art the hope of all the ends of the earth, and of those who are afar off upon the sea...
Pàgina 204 - Toll for the brave! The brave that are no more! All sunk beneath the wave, Fast by their native shore ! Eight hundred of the brave, Whose courage well was tried, Had made the vessel heel, And laid her on her side. A land-breeze shook the shrouds, And she was overset; Down went the Royal George, With all her crew complete.
Pàgina 90 - Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast, How shall ye flee away and be at rest ? The wild dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, Mankind their country — Israel but the grave !
Pàgina 284 - MAIDEN ! heir of kings ! A king has left his place ! The majesty of Death has swept All other from his face ! And thou upon thy mother's breast No longer lean adown, But take the glory for the rest, And rule the land that loves thee best...
Pàgina 246 - ... minions raise, But by a lofty chapel dome The muffled hero stays. A king is standing there, And with uncovered head Receives him in the name of France, Receiveth whom ? — The dead ! Was he not buried deep In island-cavern drear, Girt by the sounding ocean surge? How came that sleeper here...
Pàgina 244 - RETURN OF NAPOLEON FROM ST. HELENA. Ho ! City of the gay ! Paris ! what festal rite Doth call thy thronging million forth All eager for the sight? Thy soldiers line the streets In fixed and stern array, With buckled helm and bayonet, As on the battle-day. By square, and fountain side, Heads in dense masses rise, And tower, and battlement, and tree, Are studded thick with eyes. Comes there some conqueror home In triumph from the fight, With spoil and captives in his train, The trophies of his might?...

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