Recollections of a Tour: A Summer Ramble in Belgium, Germany, and Switzerland

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John Snow, 1846 - Всего страниц: 548
 

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Стр. 416 - Chillon! thy prison is a holy place, And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard ! — May none those marks efface ! For they appeal from tyranny to God.
Стр. 188 - Avaunt ! and quit my sight ! Let the earth hide thee ! Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold ; Thou hast no speculation in those eyes Which thou dost glare with ! Lady M.
Стр. 168 - Shall wood be taken thereof to do any work? or will men take a pin of it to hang any vessel thereon? Behold, it is cast into the fire for fuel; the fire devoureth both the ends of it, and the midst of it is burned.
Стр. 420 - It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page, in a summer-house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains.
Стр. 123 - The river Rhine, it is well known, Doth wash your city of Cologne ; But tell me, Nymphs ! what power divine Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine ? ON MY JOYFUL DEPARTURE FROM THE SAME CITY.
Стр. 339 - When he made a decree for the rain, and a way for the lightning of the thunder: 27 Then did he see it, and declare it; he prepared it, yea, and searched it out.
Стр. 111 - Earth paved like Heaven; and to seem such to me Even now what wants thy stream? — that it should Lethe be.
Стр. 420 - After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters, and all nature was silent.
Стр. 223 - God is a spirit, and they who worship him, must worship him in spirit and in truth.
Стр. 176 - THERE is a land of pure delight, Where saints immortal reign, Infinite day excludes the night, And pleasures banish pain. 2 There everlasting spring abides, And never-withering flowers : Death, like a narrow sea, divides This heavenly land from ours.

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