Black's guide to the south-eastern counties of England. Hampshire and the Isle of Wight (Google eBook)

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1861
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Page 789 - The breath whose might I have invoked in song Descends on me ; my spirit's bark is driven Far from the shore, far from the trembling throng Whose sails were never to the tempest given. The massy earth and sphered skies are riven ! I am borne darkly, fearfully, afar ! Whilst, burning through the inmost veil of heaven, The soul of Adonais, like a star, Beacons from the abode where the Eternal are.
Page 878 - ... it, is a land of hills and valleys, and drinketh water of the rain of heaven: a land which the Lord thy God careth for : the eyes of the Lord thy God are always upon it, from the beginning of the year even unto the end of the year.
Page v - ... antiquities and ruins, libraries, colleges, disputations, and lectures, where any are ; shipping and navies ; houses and gardens of state and pleasure, near great cities; armories, arsenals, magazines...
Page 756 - ... luxuriant for a holy eye ; only on either hand they leave an opening to the blue glittering sea. Did you not observe how, as that white sail shot by and was lost, he turned and crossed himself to drive the tempter from him that had thrown that distraction in his way ? I should tell you that the ferryman who rowed me, a lusty young fellow, told me that he would not for all the world pass a night at the Abbey (there were such things seen near it) though there was a power of money hid there.
Page 710 - He that at midnight, when the very labourer sleeps securely, should hear, as I have very often, the clear airs, the sweet descants, the natural rising and falling, the doubling and redoubling of her voice, might well be lifted above earth, and say, Lord, what music hast thou provided for the Saints in Heaven, when thou affordest bad men such music on Earth...
Page 763 - And swells, and deepens, to the cherish'd eye. The hawthorn whitens; and the juicy groves Put forth their buds, unfolding by degrees, Till the whole leafy forest stands display'd, In full luxuriance, to the sighing gales; Where the deer rustle through the twining brake, And the birds sing conceal'd.
Page 710 - Alas ! he's gone before, Gone to return no more. Our panting breasts aspire After their aged sire ; Whose well-spent life did last Full ninety years and past. But now he hath begun That, which will ne'er be done. Crown'd with eternal bliss, We wish our souls with his.
Page 755 - Abbey ; there may be richer and greater houses of religion, but the Abbot is content with his situation. See there, at the top of that hanging meadow, under the shade of those old trees that bend into a half circle about it, he is walking slowly (good man !) and bidding his beads for the souls of his benefactors, interred in that venerable pile that lies beneath him.
Page 769 - King William II. being slain, as is before related, was laid in a cart belonging to one Purkess, and drawn from hence to Winchester, and buried in the Cathedral Church of that city.
Page 788 - He has outsoared the shadow of our night; Envy and calumny and hate and pain, And that unrest which men miscall delight, Can touch him not and torture not again...

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