Land and Lee in the Bosphorus and Ægean; Or, Views of Athens and Constantinople

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A.S. Barnes & Company, 1856 - 366 pages
 

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Page 5 - ... books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay they do preserve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that bred them.
Page 278 - Nature never did betray The heart that loved her; 'tis her privilege, Through all the years of this our life, to lead From joy to joy: for she can so inform The mind that is within us, so impress With quietness and beauty, and so feed With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, Nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all The dreary intercourse of daily life, Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold Is...
Page 363 - I long believed, And disappointed still, was still deceived, By expectation every day beguiled, Dupe of to-morrow even from a child.
Page 323 - One song employs all nations; and all cry, * Worthy the Lamb, for he was slain for us !* The dwellers in the vales and on the rocks Shout to each other, and the mountain-tops From distant mountains catch the flying joy ; Till, nation after nation taught the strain, Earth rolls the rapturous Hosanna round.
Page 364 - Yet, oh, the thought that thou art safe, and he, That thought is joy, arrive what may to me. My boast is not that I deduce my birth From loins enthroned and rulers of the earth; But higher far my proud pretensions rise — The son of parents passed into the skies!
Page 208 - The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece! Where burning Sappho loved and sung, Where grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet, But all, except their sun, is set.
Page 17 - The winds are high, and Helle's tide Rolls darkly heaving to the main ; And Night's descending shadows hide That field with blood bedew'd in vain, The desert of old Priam's pride ; The tombs, sole relics of his reign, All — save immortal dreams that could beguile The blind old man of Scio's rocky isle...
Page 155 - My mother! when I learned that thou wast dead, Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed? Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, Wretch even then, life's journey just begun? Perhaps thou gavest me, though unfelt, a kiss: Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — Ah, that maternal smile! it answers — Yes.
Page 155 - I heard the bell tolled on thy burial -day, I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away, And turning from my nursery window, drew A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu ! But was it such?
Page 287 - Till we've trampled the turban, and shown ourselves worth Being sprung from and named for the godlike of earth. Strike home, and the world shall revere us As heroes descended from heroes.

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