Sketches of Society in Great Britain and Irleand, 1-2±Ç

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Carey, Lea & Blanchard, 1835
 

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53 ÆäÀÌÁö - IF thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, Go visit it by the pale moonlight; For the gay beams of lightsome day Gild but to flout the ruins gray.
xv ÆäÀÌÁö - Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, — Calm or convulsed, in breeze, or gale, or storm, Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of eternity, the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.
92 ÆäÀÌÁö - Thou art, of what sort the eternal life of the saints was to be, which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive.
223 ÆäÀÌÁö - No more its arches echo to the noise Of joy and festive mirth. No more the glance Of blazing taper through its windows beams, And quivers on the undulating wave: But naked stand the melancholy walls, Lash'd by the wintry tempests, cold and bleak, That whistle mournful through the empty halls, And piecemeal crumble down the towers to dust.
53 ÆäÀÌÁö - When buttress and buttress, alternately, Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; When silver edges the imagery, And the scrolls that teach thee to live and die ; When distant Tweed is heard to rave, And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, Then go— but go alone the while — Then view St. David's ruined pile ; And, home' returning, soothly swear, Was never scene so sad and fair ! II.
62 ÆäÀÌÁö - Snatch'd through the verdant maze, the hurried eye Distracted wanders; now the bowery walk Of covert close, where scarce a speck of day Falls on the lengthen'd gloom, protracted sweeps: Now meets the bending sky; the river now Dimpling along, the breezy ruffled lake, The forest darkening round, the glittering spire, Th' ethereal mountain, and the distant main.
ix ÆäÀÌÁö - This is the saddest news that ever my pen could write. The destroying Angel having taken up his quarters within my habitation, my dearest wife is gone to her eternal rest, and is invested with a crown of righteousness, having made a happy end. Indeed, had she loved herself as well as me, she had fled from the pit of destruction with the sweet babes, and might have prolonged her days ; but she was resolved to die a martyr to my interest. My drooping spirits are much refreshed with her joys, which...
257 ÆäÀÌÁö - She was a woman of masculine understanding and conduct — proud, furious, selfish, and unfeeling. She was a builder, a buyer and seller of estates, a money-lender, a farmer, a merchant of lead, coals, and timber.
120 ÆäÀÌÁö - On Leven's banks, while free to rove, And tune the rural pipe to love, I envied not the happiest swain That ever trod the Arcadian plain. Pure stream ! in whose transparent wave My youthful limbs I wont to lave...
ix ÆäÀÌÁö - Lady Sunderland, and her relations. Dear sir, let your dying chaplain recommend this truth to you and your family, that no happiness or solid comfort can be found in this vale of tears, like living a pious life ; and pray ever remember this rule — never do anything upon which you dare not first ask the blessing of God.

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