The Lives of the Lord Chancellors and Keepers of the Great Seal of England: From the Earliest Times Till the Reign of King George IV.

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Página 506 - Nor second he that rode sublime Upon the seraph-wings of Ecstasy, The secrets of th' abyss to spy. He passed the flaming bounds of Place and Time: The living throne, the sapphire blaze, Where angels tremble while they gaze, He saw; but, blasted with excess of light, Closed his eyes in endless night.
Página 421 - A combination and a form indeed, Where every god did seem to set his seal, To give the world assurance of a man.
Página 379 - Why, Sir, if you were to read Richardson for the story, your impatience would be so much fretted that you would hang yourself. But you must read him for the sentiment, and consider the story as only giving occasion to the sentiment.
Página 148 - And thou shalt not glean thy vineyard, neither shalt thou gather every grape of thy vineyard ; thou shalt leave them for the poor and stranger : I am the Lord your God.
Página 654 - Of law there can be no less acknowledged, than that her seat is the bosom of God, her voice the harmony of the world ; all things in heaven and earth do her homage, the very least as feeling her care, and the greatest as not exempted from her power...
Página 448 - said the jealous ruler over the desert, encroached upon by the restless foot of English adventure, "who is it that causes this river to rise in the high mountains, and to empty itself into the ocean? Who is it that causes to blow the loud winds of winter, and that calms them again in the summer?
Página 450 - It is the nature of everything that is great and useful, both in the animate and inanimate world, to be wild and irregular, — and we must be contented to take them with the alloys which belong to them, or live without them. Genius breaks from the fetters of criticism, but its wanderings are sanctioned by its majesty and wisdom, when it advances in its path ; — subject it to the critic, and you tame it into dulness.
Página 657 - Breathes there a man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself has said, This is my own, my native land!
Página 109 - twas I— I forged the letter. I disposed the picture, I hated, I despised, and I destroy. I ask, my Lords, whether the revengeful temper attributed by poetic fiction only to the bloody African, is not surpassed by the coolness and apathy of...
Página 529 - Neither was it mine adversary that did magnify himself against me; for then peradventure I would have hid myself from him : 14 But it was even thou, my companion, my guide, and mine own familiar friend.

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