Italy and France: An Editor's Holiday

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Hamilton, Adams, & Company, 1874 - 415 páginas

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Página 401 - But in his motion like an angel sings, Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubims : Such harmony is in immortal souls ; But whilst this muddy vesture of decay Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it.
Página 211 - Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women. And blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God. Pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.
Página 210 - THOU shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbour's.
Página 105 - Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouthed welcome as we draw near home; Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come...
Página 78 - The poorest man may in his cottage bid defiance to all the forces of the crown. It may be frail — its roof may shake — the wind may blow through it — the storm may enter — the rain may enter — but the King of England cannot enter ! — all his force dares not cross the threshold of the ruined tenement...
Página 283 - There is a glorious city in the sea; The sea is in the broad, the narrow streets, Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed Clings to the marble of her palaces. No track of men, no footsteps to and fro, Lead to her gates! The path lies o'er the sea, Invisible: and from the land we went, As to a floating city — steering in, And gliding up her streets, as in...
Página 181 - They died in torments, and their torments were embittered by insult and derision. Some were nailed on crosses; others sewn up in the skins of wild beasts, and exposed to the fury of dogs: others again, smeared over with combustible materials, were used as torches to illuminate the darkness of the night.
Página 150 - His arms and ample bosom to the tide, And spreads his mantle o'er the winding coast, In which he wraps his queen, and hides the flying host. The victor to the gods his thanks express'd, And Rome triumphant with his presence bless'd.
Página 78 - Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land ? Whose heart hath ne'er within him burned, As home his footsteps he hath turned, From wandering on a foreign strand...
Página 146 - But as it is written, To whom he was not spoken of, they shall see : and they that have not heard shall understand.

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