The Crescent and the Cross; Or, Romance and Realities of Eastern Travel, Bind 1–2

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Wiley & Putnam, 1845 - 768 sider
 

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Side 206 - Not all the water in the rough rude sea Can wash the balm from an anointed king ; The breath of worldly men cannot depose The deputy elected by the Lord.
Side 190 - Branches they bore of that enchanted stem, Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave To each, but whoso did receive of them And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores...
Side 168 - A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. The Boy was sprung to manhood : in the wilds Of fiery climes he made himself a home, And his soul drank their sunbeams : he was girt With strange and dusky aspects ; he was not Himself like what he had been; on the sea And on the shore he was a wanderer...
Side 168 - So cloudless, clear, and purely beautiful, That God alone was to be seen in heaven.
Side 227 - They that see thee shall narrowly look upon thee, and consider thee, saying, Is this the man that made the earth to tremble, that did shake kingdoms; that made the world as a wilderness, and destroyed the cities thereof; that opened not the house of his prisoners?
Side 13 - Now, upon SYRIA'S land of roses Softly the light of eve reposes, And, like a glory, the broad sun Hangs over sainted LEBANON ; Whose head in wintry grandeur towers, And whitens with eternal sleet, While summer, in a vale of flowers, Is sleeping rosy at his feet.
Side 26 - The spirits of your fathers Shall start from every wave ! — For the deck it was their field of fame, And Ocean was their grave...
Side 1 - Thy waters wasted them while they were free, And many a tyrant since; their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou; Unchangeable save to thy wild waves
Side 173 - Ave, Maria ; blessed be the hour, The time, the clime, the spot, where I so oft Have felt that moment in its fullest power Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, While swung the deep bell in the distant tower, Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, And not a breath crept through the rosy air, And yet, the forest leaves seemed stirred with prayer.
Side 217 - Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood! — unto thee Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou regret'st thy youth, why live? The land of honourable death Is here: — up to the field, and give Away thy breath! Seek out — less often sought than found — A soldier's grave, for thee the best; Then look around and choose thy ground, And take thy rest.

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