Ship and Shore: In Madeira, Lisbon, and the Mediterranean

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D. W. Evans, 1860 - Mediterranean Sea - 313 pages
 

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Page 93 - Who hath woe ? who hath sorrow ? who hath contentions? who hath babbling? who hath wounds without cause ? who hath redness of eyes ? They that tarry long at the wine ; they that go to seek mixed wine.
Page 109 - Hitherto shalt thou come, and no further, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed," these irregular and prodigious vagaries seem to bespeak a decay, and forebode, perhaps, not a very distant dissolution.
Page 283 - THOU unrelenting Past ! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain. And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign. Far in thy realm withdrawn Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom, And glorious ages gone Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb. Childhood, with all its mirth, Youth, Manhood, Age that draws us to the ground, And last, Man's Life on earth, Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound.
Page 31 - ... immortal. All men think all men mortal but themselves ; Themselves, when some alarming shock of Fate Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread : But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, Soon close; where past the shaft no trace is found.
Page 213 - This is the bud of being, the dim dawn, The twilight of our day, the vestibule : Life's theatre as yet is shut, and Death, Strong Death, alone .can heave the massy bar, This gross impediment of clay remove, And make us embryos of existence free.
Page 176 - How are the mighty fallen in the midst of the battle! Jonathan is slain upon thy high places. I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan; Very pleasant hast thou been unto me: Thy love to me was wonderful, Passing the love of women. How are the mighty fallen, And the weapons of war perished!
Page 31 - In these habiliments of seeming dumber, it is dropped into the wave, the waters close over it, the vessel passes quickly on, and not a solitary trace is left to tell where sunk from light and life one that loved to look at the sky and breathe this vital air. There is nothing that for one moment can point to the deep, unvisited resting place of the departed, — it is a grave in the midst of the ocean — in the midst of a vast untrodden solitude ; — affection cannot...
Page 282 - ... fleeting form ; Then o'er the calm begins to mutter loud, And swears he would exchange it for a storm, Tornado, any thing — to put a close To this most dead, monotonous repose. An order given, and he obeys, of course, Though 'twere to run his ship upon the rocks— Capture a squadron with a...
Page 186 - Wrapp'd in the winding-sheet and shroud ; And darkly o'er thee broods the pall, While faint and low thy dirge is sung ; And warm and fast around thee fall Tears of the beautiful and young.
Page 295 - I met there one morning a little girl with a half-playful countenance, busy blue eye, and sunny locks, bearing in one hand a small cup of china, and in the other a wreath of fresh flowers. Feeling a very natural curiosity to know what she could do with these bright things in a place that seemed to partake so much of sadness, I watched her light motions. Reaching a retired grave, covered with a plain marble slab, she emptied the seed— which it appeared the cup contained—into the slight cavities...

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