The mysteries of St. Clair; or, Mariette Mouline ...

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Jacques, 1824 - 624 pages
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Page 358 - For modes of faith, let graceless zealots fight ; His can't be wrong whose life is in the right: In faith and hope the world will disagree, But all mankind's concern is charity : All must be false that thwart this one great end ; And all of God, that bless mankind, or mend.
Page 121 - Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind: His soul, proud science never taught to stray Far as the solar walk or Milky Way: Yet simple Nature to his hope has given.
Page 37 - Our doubts are traitors, And make us lose the good we oft might win, By fearing to attempt.
Page 566 - Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of death?
Page 116 - LOCHIEL ! Lochiel, beware of the day When the Lowlands shall meet thee in battle array ! For a field of the dead rushes red on my sight, And the clans of Culloden are scattered in fight...
Page 116 - Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.
Page 563 - From wandering on a foreign strand! If such there breathe, go, mark him well; For him no Minstrel raptures swell; High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim; Despite those titles, power, and pelf, The wretch...
Page 563 - High though his titles, proud his name, Boundless his wealth as wish can claim ; Despite those titles, power and pelf, The wretch, concentred all in self, Living, shall forfeit fair renown, And, doubly dying, shall go down To the vile dust, from whence he sprung, Unwept, unhonored and unsung.
Page 240 - Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast, Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains In cradle of the rude imperious surge. And in the visitation of the winds, Who take the ruffian billows by the top, Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging them With deaf ning clamours in the slippery clouds, That, with the hurly, death itself awakes...
Page 169 - In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye ; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine...

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