Deeds, not words; or, The Flemings of Dunaik

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G. Routledge, 1857 - 453 pàgines
 

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Pàgina 48 - These are thy glorious Works, Parent of good, Almighty! thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair: thyself how wondrous then, Unspeakable! who sitt'st above these heavens To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Pàgina 225 - And slight withal may be the things which bring Back on the heart the weight which it would fling Aside for ever : it may be a sound — A tone of music, — summer's eve — or spring, A flower — the wind — the Ocean — which shall wound, Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound ; XXIV.
Pàgina 421 - Unless another master-hand like Carleton's should appear, it is in his pages, and his alone, that future generations must look for the truest and fullest picture of the Irish peasantry, who will ere long have passed away from the troubled land, and from the records of history."— Edinburgh Review, Oct.
Pàgina 231 - In lowly dale, fast by a river's side, With woody hill o'er hill encompassed round, A most enchanting wizard did abide, Than whom a fiend more fell is nowhere found. It was, I ween, a lovely spot of ground ; And there a season atween June and May, Half prankt with spring, with summer half imbrowned, A listless climate made, where, sooth to say, -- No living wight could work, ne cared even for play.
Pàgina 77 - THE righteous perisheth, and no man layeth it to heart: And merciful men are taken away, none considering That the righteous is taken away from the evil to come.
Pàgina 24 - DO you remember all the sunny places, Where in bright days, long past, we played together? Do you remember all the old home faces That gathered round the hearth in wintry weather? Do you remember all the happy meetings, In Summer evenings round the open door— Kind looks, kind hearts, kind words and tender greetings, And clasping hands whose pulses beat no more?
Pàgina 51 - OH ! ask not, hope thou not too much Of sympathy below ; Few are the hearts whence one same touch Bids the sweet fountains flow: Few— and by still conflicting powers Forbidden here to meet — Such ties would make this life of ours Too fair for aught so fleet.
Pàgina 226 - Dim grow its fancies, Forgotten they lie ; Like coals in the ashes, They darken and die. Song sinks into silence, The story is told, The windows are darkened, The hearthstone is cold.
Pàgina 346 - MY soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing ; And thine doth like an angel sit, Beside the helm conducting it, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.

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