Views of society and manners in the north of Ireland, in a series of letters written in 1818

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Página 54 - And Jacob awaked out of his sleep, and he said, Surely the Lord is in this place; and I knew it not. And he was afraid and said, How dreadful is this place! This is none other but the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.
Página 244 - Give me another horse! bind up my wounds! Have mercy, Jesu! Soft! I did but dream. O! coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me. The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
Página 235 - O that I had wings like a dove : for then would I flee away, and be at rest.
Página 266 - like many other acts of piety, may be reasonable or superstitious, according to the principles upon which it is performed. Long journeys in search of truth are not commanded. Truth, such as is necessary to the regulation of life, is always found where it is honestly sought. Change of place is no natural cause of the increase of piety, for it inevitably produces dissipation of mind. Yet, since men go every day to view the...
Página 253 - And a man shall be as an hiding place from the wind, and a covert from the tempest ; as rivers of water in a dry place, as the shadow of a great rock in a weary land.
Página 90 - ... once through Tara's halls The soul of music shed, Now hangs as mute on Tara's walls As if that soul were fled. So sleeps the pride of former days, So glory's thrill is o'er, And hearts that once beat high for praise Now feel that pulse no more. No more to chiefs and ladies bright The harp of Tara swells : The chord alone, that breaks at night, Its tale of ruin tells. Thus Freedom now so seldom wakes, The only throb she gives Is when some heart indignant breaks, To show that still she lives.
Página 212 - My mind to me a kingdom is; Such perfect joy therein I find As far exceeds all earthly bliss That God or nature hath assigned; Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
Página 182 - This wide and universal theatre Presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play in. Jaq. All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players : They have their exits and their entrances ; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages.
Página 152 - The days of our years are threescore years and ten; And if by reason of strength they be fourscore years, Yet is their strength labour and sorrow; For it is soon cut off, and we fly away.
Página 180 - For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little: And, to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died, fearing God.

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