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Page 213 - Oh, Thou, who Man of baser Earth didst make, And who with Eden didst devise the Snake; For all the Sin wherewith the Face of Man Is blacken'd, Man's Forgiveness give — and take ! KUZA-NAMA LIX Listen again.
Page 174 - God that made the world, and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands ; neither is worshipped with men's hands, as though he needed any thing, seeing he giveth to all life, and breath, and all things...
Page 213 - Oh Thou, who didst with pitfall and with gin Beset the Road I was to wander in, Thou wilt not with Predestined Evil round Enmesh, and then impute my Fall to Sin!
Page 177 - ... to Dr. Johnson bears date a very few hours after the death of Nuncomar. While' the whole settlement was in commotion, while a mighty and ancient priesthood were weeping over the remains of their chief, the conqueror in that deadly grapple sat down, with characteristic self-possession, to write about the Tour to the Hebrides, Jones's Persian Grammar, and the history, traditions, arts, and natural productions of India.
Page 217 - On that hard Pagan world disgust And secret loathing fell. Deep weariness and sated lust Made human life a hell. "In his cool hall, with haggard eyes, The Roman noble lay; He drove abroad, in furious guise, Along the Appian way. "He made a feast, drank fierce and fast, And crown'd his hair with flowers— No easier nor no quicker pass'd The impracticable hours.
Page 210 - He is not sure whether, even on this side of the grave, perfect bliss is to be had ; and in such uncertainty it would be folly to strive. But he is quite sure of the wisdom of savouring to the utmost the passing moment ; and, like Horace, he makes the precariousness of joy a reason for enjoyment.
Page 218 - One is scarcely sensible of fatigue whilst he marches to music. The very stars are said to make harmony as they revolve in their spheres.
Page 204 - What best may profit or delight they know, And real good for fancied bliss bestow: With eyes of pity they our frailties scan ; More dear to them, than to himself, is man. By blind desire, by headlong passion driven, For wife and heirs we daily weary Heaven: Yet still 'tis Heaven's prerogative to know, If heirs, or wife, will bring us weal or woe.