The Living Age, Volume 11

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E. Littell & Company, 1846
 

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Page 18 - For it is written in the law of Moses, Thou shalt not muzzle the mouth of the ox that treadeth out the corn.
Page 114 - In the six hundredth year of Noah's life, in the second month, the seventeenth day of the month, the same day were all the fountains of the great deep broken up, and the windows of heaven were opened.
Page 217 - When thou saidst, Seek ye my face; my heart said unto thee, Thy face, Lord, will I seek.
Page 110 - The waves of the sea are mighty, and rage horribly : but yet the Lord, who dwelleth on high, is mightier.
Page 171 - Hampstead's swarthy moor they started for the north ; And on, and on, without a pause, untired they bounded still : All night from tower to tower they sprang; they sprang from hill to hill...
Page 115 - And the waters prevailed exceedingly upon the earth; and all the high hills, that were under the whole heaven, were covered.
Page 159 - Ye stars ! which are the poetry of heaven If in your bright leaves we would read the fate Of men and empires,-' tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you ; for ye are A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
Page 171 - From Eddystone to Berwick bounds, from Lynn to Milford Bay, That time of slumber was as bright and busy as the day; For swift to east and swift to west the ghastly warflame spread, High on St.
Page 169 - Built nobly, pure the air, and light the soil ; Athens, the eye of Greece, mother of arts And eloquence, native to famous wits Or hospitable, in her sweet recess, City or suburban, studious walks and shades. See there the olive grove of Academe, Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long; There flowery hill Hymettus, with the sound Of bees...
Page 266 - Farewell the tranquil mind ! Farewell content ! Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars, That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump, The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife, The royal banner ; and all quality. Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! And O, you mortal engines, whose rude throats The immortal Jove's dread clamours counterfeit, Farewell ! Othello's occupation's gone ! lago.

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