![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=OvkMAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | 1853 - 420 pages
...centuries. So stand the generations of men upon the burial places of other times, and heed it not. AU that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom. * * * * And millions in those solitudes, since first The flight of years began, have laid them down In their last... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=0dwOAAAAIAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | Henry Harbaugh - 1853 - 410 pages
...one-fifth as many as the present, there would have died in all twentyeight thousands of millions. Truly, " All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom." Considering that one-half of the race die in infancy, we have the number of fourteen thousands of millions... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=q5IBAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | 1889 - 434 pages
...surface of our earth has been dug over one hundred and twenty-eight times to bury its dead. Truly. "All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom." John Stuart Mill likewise writes : '-The power of multiplication inherent in all organic life may be... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=MNQQAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | Ludwig Herrig - 1854 - 580 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... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=bA0XAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | 1854 - 402 pages
...population in all the past ; and the mind will grasp the superior number of the dead beyond the living. "All that tread The globe, are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom." The surface of the earth, so far as it is dry land, is estimated at nearly forty millions of square... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=zfQAAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | Literary and Philosophical Society of Liverpool - 1854 - 630 pages
...reconcile one's mind to the belief that it once formed the bed of a deep green sea swarming with life : yet all that tread the globe are but a handful to the tribes that now slumber in its bosom. In its recesses dwelt the producta, terrepratula, and spirifer ; the corals... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=dp0BAAAAQAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | William Ingraham Kip - 1854 - 262 pages
...utterly perished from the land which was once hallowed by their footsteps. " All that tread The earth are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom." IV. INSCRIPTIONS IN THE CATACOMBS. IV. THE INSCRIPTIONS DT THE CATACOMBS. THERE is an old Arabian fable,... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=CgsRAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | William Cullen Bryant - 1855 - 318 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, traverse Barca's desert sands, Or lose thyself in the continuous... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=JTQAAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | 1854 - 748 pages
...bones?"—(The Grave.) The congregation of the dead, that mighty congregation, is thus numbered : " All that tread The globe are but a handful to the tribes That slumber in its bosom."—(Thanalopsis.) k, " The cap goes round, r And who so artful as to put it bye, 'Tis long since... | |
![](https://books.google.com.mm/books/content?id=L9cCAAAAYAAJ&printsec=frontcover&img=1&zoom=5&edge=curl) | John Frost - 1855 - 462 pages
...of heaven, Are shining on the sad abodes of death, Through the still lapse of ages. All that trea£ 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... | |
| |