Outre-mer: A Pilgrimage Beyond the Sea (Google eBook)

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Ticknor and Fields, 1859 - Europe - 374 pages
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Page 224 - FAIR stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our chance Longer will tarry; But putting to the main, At Caux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train, Landed King Harry.
Page 259 - My panting side was charged when I withdrew To seek a tranquil death in distant shades.^ There was I found by one who had himself Been hurt by the archers.
Page 228 - And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer. Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath planned ; To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply ; Its choir the winds and waves — its organ thunder — Its dome the sky.
Page 81 - There is no antidote against the opium of time, which temporally considereth all things : our fathers find their graves in our short memories, and sadly tell us how we may be buried in our survivors.
Page 220 - Albania's city fell; In the fire the scroll he threw, And the messenger he slew. Woe is me, Alhama...
Page 259 - O, to Heaven how lost, If my ingratitude's unkindly frost Has chilled the bleeding wounds upon thy feet. How oft my guardian angel gently cried, " Soul, from thy casement look, and thou shalt see How he persists to knock and wait for thee...
Page 215 - and I most lost of men !' ' Now, speak not so, my noble lord, my husband, and my life ! Unhappy never can she be that is Alarcos
Page 293 - THE Moorish king rides up and down Through Granada's royal town ; From Elvira's gates to those Of Bivarambla on he goes. Woe is me, Alhama...
Page 228 - Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth And tolls its perfume on the passing air, Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth A call to prayer. Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath...
Page 95 - Combien un repas grossier paraît savoureux ! avec quel plaisir on se repose à table ! Quel bon sommeil on fait dans un mauvais lit ! Quand on ne veut qu'arriver, on peut courir en chaise de poste ; mais quand on veut voyager, il faut aller à pied.

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