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Página 84 - And Jesus answering said, Were there not ten cleansed? but where are the nine? There are not found that returned to give glory to God, save this stranger.
Página 366 - ... bleed And as the dove to far Palmyra flying From where her native founts of Antioch beam, Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream ; So many a soul, o'er life's drear desert faring, Love's pure congenial spring unfound. unquafFd, Suffers, recoils, then, thirsty, and despairing Of what it would, descends and sips the nearest draught SONG.
Página 209 - Round turned he, as not deigning Those craven ranks to see ; Nought spake he to Lars Porsena To Sextus nought spake he ; But he saw on Palatinus The white porch of his home ; And he spake to the noble river That rolls by the towers of Rome. "Oh Tiber! father Tiber! To whom the Romans pray, A Roman's life, a Roman's arms, Take thou in charge this day!
Página 138 - I have pass'da miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That, as I am a christian faithful man, ' • I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ; So full of dismal terror was the time.
Página 376 - Yet now despair itself is mild, Even as the winds and waters are ; I could lie down like a tired child, And weep away the life of care Which I have borne and yet must bear...
Página 366 - And as the dove to far Palmyra flying From where her native founts of Antioch beam, Weary, exhausted, longing, panting, sighing, Lights sadly at the desert's bitter stream ; So many a soul, o'er life's drear desert faring, Love's pure congenial spring unfound, unquaffed, Suffers — recoils — then thirsty and despairing Of what it would, descends and sips the nearest draught ! * MARIA Go WEN BROOKS (MARIA DEL OCCIDENTE).
Página 41 - WE scatter seeds with careless hand, And dream we ne'er shall see them more ; But for a thousand years Their fruit appears, In weeds that mar the land, Or healthful store. The deeds we do, the words we say, — Into still air they seem to fleet, We count them ever past ; But they shall last, — In the dread judgment they And we shall meet.
Página 436 - Nor ease, nor peace, that heart can know, That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe; But, turning, trembles too.
Página 393 - O purblind race of miserable men, How many among us at this very hour Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves, By taking true for false, or false for true ; Here, thro...
Página 5 - Over its grave i' the earth so chilly ; Heavily hangs the hollyhock, Heavily hangs the tiger-lily. The air is damp, and hush'd, and close, As a sick man's room when he taketh repose An hour before death ; My very heart faints and my whole soul grieves At the moist rich smell of the rotting leaves, And the breath Of the fading edges of box beneath, And the year's last rose. Heavily hangs...