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Page 318 - Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! because ye build the tombs of the prophets, and garnish the sepulchres of the righteous, and say, If we had been in the days of our fathers, we would not have been partakers with them in the blood of the prophets.
Page 544 - Has hurried me off to the Po, Forget not Medora Trevilian: — My own Araminta, say "No!" We parted! but sympathy's fetters Reach far over valley and hill; I muse o'er your exquisite letters, And feel that your heart is mine still; And he who would share it with me, love, — The richest of treasures below, — If he's not what Orlando should be, love, My own Araminta, say "No!
Page 176 - JE ne suis pas de ceux qui disent : Ce n'est rien, C'est une femme qui se noie. Je dis que c'est beaucoup; et ce sexe vaut bien Que nous le regrettions, puisqu'il fait notre joie.
Page 318 - For the saying which he cried by the word of the LORD against the altar in Beth-el, and against all the houses of the high places which are in the cities of Samaria, shall surely come to pass.
Page 543 - You tell me you're promised a lover, My own Araminta, next week ; Why cannot my fancy discover The hue of his coat and his cheek ? Alas ! if he look like another, A vicar, a banker, a beau, Be deaf to your father and mother, My own Araminta, say
Page 80 - But oh ! with such a glazing eye, With such a curdling cheek — Love, Love ! of mortal agony Thou, only thou, shouldst speak ! The wind rose high — but with it rose Her voice, that he might hear : — Perchance that dark hour brought repose To happy bosoms near; While she sat striving with despair Beside his tortured form, And pouring her deep soul in prayer Forth on the rushing storm. She wiped the death-damps from his brow With her pale hands and soft, Whose touch upon the lute-chords low Had...
Page 80 - And thou, mine honour'd love and true, Bear on, bear nobly on We have the blessed heaven in view, Whose rest shall soon be won." And were not these high words to flow From woman's breaking heart? Through all that night of bitterest...
Page 366 - ... distraire que par des bouquets. La vue d'une fleur caresse mon imagination et flatte mes sens à un point inexprimable ; elle réveille avec volupté le sentiment de mon existence. Sous le tranquille abri du toit paternel , j'étais heureuse...
Page 401 - For rulers are not a terror to good works, but to the evil. Wilt thou then not be afraid of the power ? Do that which is good, and thou shalt have praise of the same.
Page 544 - Remember the thrilling romances We read on the bank in the glen; Remember the suitors our fancies Would picture for both of us then. They wore the red cross on their shoulder, They had vanquished and pardoned their foe— Sweet friend, are you wiser or colder? My own Araminta, say 'No!