The Shipwrecked mariner, 30 tomas,117–120 leidimai

Priekinis viršelis
1883

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179 psl. - tis, to cast one's eyes so low! The crows and choughs, that wing the midway air, Show scarce so gross as beetles : Half way down Hangs one that gathers samphire; dreadful trade! Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: The fishermen, that walk upon the beach, Appear like mice; and yon...
305 psl. - SOME murmur, when their sky is clear And wholly bright to view, If one small speck of dark appear In their great heaven of blue : And some with thankful love are filled If but one streak of light, One ray of God's good mercy gild The darkness of their night.
259 psl. - All in a hot and copper sky The bloody sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the moon. Day after day, day after day, We stuck — nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.
62 psl. - THE turf shall be my fragrant shrine ; My temple, Lord ! that arch of thine ; My censer's breath the mountain airs, And silent thoughts my only prayers.
249 psl. - Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bay, With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals Of fish, that with their fins and shining scales Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft Bank the mid sea...
308 psl. - All those things are passed away like a shadow, and as a host that hasted by; and as a ship that passeth over the waves of the water, which, when it is gone by,, the trace thereof cannot be found, neither the pathway of the keel in the waves...
227 psl. - This virtue does indeed produce, in some measure, all those effects which the alchymist usually ascribes to what he calls the philosopher's stone ; and if it does not bring riches, it does the same thing, by banishing the desire of them. If it cannot remove the disquietudes arising out of a man's mind, body, or.
172 psl. - Though the mills of God grind slowly, yet they grind exceeding small; Though with patience he stands waiting, with exactness grinds he all.
308 psl. - What hath pride profited us? or what good hath riches with our vaunting brought us? All those things are passed away like a shadow...
183 psl. - If by your art, my dearest father, you have Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them : The sky, it seems, would pour down stinking pitch, But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's cheek, Dashes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd With those that I saw suffer ! a brave vessel, Who had no doubt some noble creatures in her, Dash'd all to pieces.

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