The National Magazine, 12 tomas

Priekinis viršelis
Abel Stevens, James Floy
Carlton & Phillips, 1858
 

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155 psl. - A wicked whisper came, and made My heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet.
157 psl. - But tell me, tell me ! speak again, Thy soft response renewing — What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?" SECOND VOICE " Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast — If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim. See, brother, see ! how graciously She looketh down on him.
157 psl. - Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless Albatross. • The spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow.
428 psl. - See, I have this day set thee over the nations and over the kingdoms, to root out, and to pull down, and to destroy, and to throw down, to build, and to plant.
353 psl. - That be far from thee to do after this manner, to slay the righteous with the wicked : and that the righteous should be as the wicked, that be far from thee : Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right...
5 psl. - Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, everywhere Nor any drop to drink. • The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea.
423 psl. - THEE, O Lord, do I put my trust; let me never be ashamed: deliver me in thy righteousness.
424 psl. - The place of the Scripture which he read was this, He was led as a sheep to the slaughter ; and like a lamb dumb before his shearer, so opened he not his mouth : In his humiliation his judgment was taken away : and who shall declare his generation ? for his life is taken from the earth.
159 psl. - The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, I heard them coming fast: Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy The dead men could not blast. I saw a third — I heard his voice: It is the Hermit good! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Albatross's blood.
157 psl. - It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.

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