The planets, all the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Report - Page 157by New Hampshire. State Department of Health - 1887Full view - About this book
| George Vandenhoff - 1846 - 398 pages
...the infinite host of heav'n, Are shining as the sad abodes of death, Thro' the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce ; Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where... | |
| 1847 - 312 pages
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning, — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous... | |
| Salem Town - 1847 - 420 pages
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wmgs Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce ; Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where... | |
| George Vandenhoff - 1847 - 396 pages
...the infinite host of heav'n, Are shining as the sad abodes of death, Thro' the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce ; Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where... | |
| William Cullen Bryant - 1847 - 520 pages
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous... | |
| George Barrell Cheever - 1847 - 456 pages
...heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The giohe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce ; Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where... | |
| Salem Town - 1848 - 300 pages
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. Take the wings Of morning, and the Barcan desert pierce; Or lose thyself in the continuous woods Where... | |
| 1848 - 272 pages
...infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death Through the still lapse of ages — all that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom — take the wings Of morning, and the Barean desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods... | |
| 1848 - 276 pages
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom.—Take the wings Of morning—and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous... | |
| 1849 - 472 pages
...the infinite host of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. — Take the wings Of morning — and the Barcan desert pierce, Or lose thyself in the continuous woods... | |
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