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2,201 illustrations — Poetic illustrations and verse for preaching
DEAR MURRAY,-- You ask for a "_Volume of Nonsense_," Have all of your authors exhausted their store? I thought you had published a good deal not long since. And doubtless the Squadron are ready with more.
If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee. If ever wife was happy in a man, Compare with me, ye women, if you can.
IMMITATION OF ENGLISH POETS. WALLER 'Come, gentle Air!' the Aeolian shepherd said, While Procris panted in the secret shade; 'Come, gentle Air!' the fairer Delia cries, While at her feet her swain expiring lies.
So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse, And found such fair assistance in my verse As every alien pen hath got my use And under thee their poesy disperse.
weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream; Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell; Mourn--where their God hath dwelt the godless dwell! And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
all is past--swift time has fled away, Yet its swell pauses on my sickening mind; How long will horror nerve this frame of clay? I'm dead, and lingers yet my soul behind.
Thou living light that in thy rainbow hues Clothest this naked world; and over Sea And Earth and air, and all the shapes that be In peopled darkness of this wondrous world The Spirit of thy glory dost diffuse ...
As from an ancestral oak Two empty ravens sound their clarion, Yell by yell, and croak by croak, When they scent the noonday smoke Of fresh human carrion:-- As two gibbering night-birds flit From their bowers of deadly yew Through...
O thou Most High who rulest all And hear'st the prayers of thine, O hearken, Lord, unto my suit And my petition sign. Into Thy everlasting arms Of mercy I commend Thy servant, Lord. Keep and preserve My husband, my dear friend.
To wake the soul by tender strokes of art, To raise the genius, and to mend the heart; To make mankind, in conscious virtue bold, Live o'er each scene, and be what they behold: For this the tragic Muse first...
How strange to greet, this frosty morn, In graceful counterfeit of flower, These children of the meadows, born Of sunshine and of showers! How well the conscious wood retains The pictures of its flower-sown home, The lights and shades, the...
WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST. Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream! For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem. Life is real!
Farewell to the Land, where the gloom of my Glory Arose and o'ershadowed the earth with her name-- She abandons me now--but the page of her story, The brightest or blackest, is filled with my fame.
Good and great God, can I not think of thee But it must straight my melancholy be? Is it interpreted in me disease That, laden with my sins, I seek for ease?
for my sake do you with Fortune chide, The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, That did not better for my life provide Than public means which public manners breeds.
(Mark, xi.17) Thy mansion is the Christian's heart, O Lord, Thy dwelling place secure! Bid the unruly throng depart, And leave the consecrated door. Devoted as it is to Thee, A thievish swarm frequents the place, They steal away my...
In the greenest of our valleys By good angels tenanted, Once a fair and stately palace-- Radiant palace--reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion-- It stood there! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair!
My love is strengthen'd, though more weak in seeming; I love not less, though less the show appear; That love is merchandiz'd, whose rich esteeming, The owner's tongue doth publish every where.
To Contemplation's sober eye Such is the race of Man: And they that creep, and they that fly, Shall end where they began.
Those lips that Love's own hand did make, Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate', To me that languish'd for her sake: But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue...
I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading -- treading -- till it seemed That Sense was breaking through...
I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes, Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste, and wise, Tritogenia, town-preserving Maid, Revered and mighty; from his awful head Whom Jove brought forth, in warlike armour dressed, Golden, all radiant!
On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray, The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep-- Yet there--even there--Oh God!...
Man, Earth's poor shadow! talks of Earth's decay: But hath it nothing of eternal kin? No majesty that shall not pass away? No soul of greatness springing up within?
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