Thaddeus of Warsaw

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Hurst, 1880 - 459 pages
 

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Page 433 - I HEARD a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, from henceforth blessed are the dead who die in the LORD ; even so saith the SPIRIT ; for they rest from their labours.
Page 428 - THESE, as they change, ALMIGHTY FATHER, these Are but the varied God. The rolling year Is full of THEE. Forth in the pleasing Spring THY beauty walks, THY tenderness and love. Wide flush the fields ; the softening air is balm ; Echo the mountains round ; the forest smiles ; And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Page 70 - Nil admirari prope res est una, Numici, solaque quae possit facere et servare beatum.
Page 201 - O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung ; My ears with hollow murmurs rung : IV. In dewy damps my limbs were chilled ; My blood with gentle horrors thrilled ; My feeble pulse forgot to play ; I fainted, sunk, and died away.
Page 59 - ... landscape reposing in the twilight of a fine evening. It is then that the spirit of peace settles upon the heart, Unfetters the thoughts and elevates the soul to the Creator. It is then that we behold the Parent of the universe in his works ; we see his grandeur in earth, sea, and...
Page 36 - The night was become so dark that they could not be sure of their way, and their horses stumbling at every step over stumps of trees, and hollows in the earth, increased their fears to such a degree that they obliged the king to keep up with them on foot...
Page 4 - Such evidences in favour of an argument, could not fail to persuade me to undertake the desired elucidating task ; feeling, indeed, particularly pleased to adopt, in my turn, a successful example from the once Great Unknown — now the not less great avowed author of the Waverley Novels, in the person of Sir Walter Scott ; who did me the honour to adopt the style or class of novel of which
Page 234 - she never told her love, but let concealment, like a worm in the bud, feed on her damask cheek. She pined in thought, and with a green and yellow melancholy, she sat like Patience on a monument, smiling at Grief.
Page 35 - ... of their muskets. Several shots were fired into the coach ; one passed through my hat, as I was getting out, sword in hand, the better to repel an attack, the motive of which I could not divine. A cut across my right leg, with a...

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