A First Gallery of Literary Portraits, 1 tomas

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J. Hogg, 1851 - 302 psl.

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Populiarios ištraukos

60 psl. - Archangel ; but his face Deep scars of thunder had intrenched, and care Sat on his faded cheek ; but under brows Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride Waiting revenge.
188 psl. - THE Lord descended from above, And bowed the heavens most high; And underneath his feet he cast The darkness of the sky. 2 On cherub and on cherubim, Full royally, he rode ; And on the wings of mighty winds Came flying all abroad.
228 psl. - That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay ? How shall he meet that dreadful day...
66 psl. - Round whose rude shaft dark ivy-tresses grew Yet dripping with the forest's noonday dew, Vibrated, as the ever-beating heart Shook the weak hand that grasped it; of that crew He came the last, neglected and apart; A herd-abandoned deer struck by the hunter's dart.
35 psl. - Almain rutters with their horsemen's staves* Or Lapland giants, trotting by our sides ; Sometimes like women, or unwedded maids, Shadowing more beauty in their airy brows Than have the white breasts of the queen of love...
169 psl. - O'er mountain, tower, and town, Or, mirrored in the ocean vast, A thousand fathoms down ! As fresh in yon horizon dark, As young thy beauties seem. As when the eagle from the ark First sported in thy beam. For, faithful to its sacred page, Heaven still rebuilds thy span • Nor lets the type grow pale with age That first spoke peace to man.
67 psl. - Give yourself no unnecessary pain, My dear Lord Cardinal. Here, mother, tie My girdle for me, and bind up this hair In any simple knot : ay, that does well. And yours I see is coming down. How often Have we done this for one another ! now We shall not do it any more. My lord, We are quite ready. Well, 'tis very well.
302 psl. - And other spirits there are standing apart Upon the forehead of the age to come ; These, these will give the world another heart, And other pulses. Hear ye not the hum Of mighty workings ? Listen awhile, ye nations, and be dumb.
297 psl. - Circus' genial laws, And the imperial pleasure. — Wherefore not ? What matters where we fall to fill the maws Of worms — on battle-plains or listed spot ? Both are but theatres where the chief actors rot.
20 psl. - I know, but dare not speak : Time may interpret to his silent years. Yet in the paleness of thy thoughtful cheek, And in the light thine ample forehead wears, And in thy sweetest smiles, and in thy tears, And in thy gentle speech, a prophecy Is whispered, to subdue my fondest fears : And, through thine eyes, even in thy soul I see A lamp of vestal fire burning internally.

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