An Englishman's Life in India: Or, Travel and Adventure in the East

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Binns & Goodwin, 1853 - India - 342 pages
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Page 182 - The latent tracts, the giddy heights explore Of all who blindly creep, or sightless soar; Eye Nature's walks, shoot folly as it flies, And catch the manners living as they rise; Laugh where we must, be candid where we can; But vindicate the ways of God to man.
Page 207 - O'er the dark trees a yellower verdure shed, And tip with silver every mountain's head ; Then shine the vales, the rocks in prospect rise, A flood of glory bursts from all the skies...
Page 114 - These are thy glorious works, Parent of good, Almighty ; Thine this universal frame, Thus wondrous fair ; Thyself how wondrous then ! Unspeakable, who sit'st above these Heavens, To us invisible, or dimly seen In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine.
Page 278 - I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following ; but I will not eat with you, drink with you, nor pray with you.
Page 1 - Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control Stops with the shore ; upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed...
Page 23 - O ETERNAL Lord God, who alone spreadest out the heavens, and rulest the raging of the sea ; who hast compassed the waters with bounds, until day and night come to an end...
Page 132 - Let us adore the supremacy of that divine sun, the god-head who illuminates all, who recreates all, from whom all proceed, to whom all must return, whom we invoke to direct our understandings aright in our progress towards his holy seat.
Page 82 - But who can paint Like Nature? Can imagination boast, Amid its gay creation, hues like hers ? Or can it mix them with that matchless skill, And lose them in each other, as appears In every bud that blows...
Page 104 - Every man is brutish in his knowledge : every founder is confounded by the graven image : for his molten image is falsehood, and there is no breath in them. They are vanity, and the work of errors : in the time of their visitation they shall perish.
Page 194 - Like the gale, that sighs along Beds of oriental flowers, Is the grateful breath of song, That once was heard in happier hours ; Fill'd with balm, the gale sighs on, Though the flowers have sunk in death ; So, when pleasure's dream is gone, Its memory lives in Music's breath.

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