The Jew Exile: a Pedestrian Tour and Residence in the Most Remote and Untravelled Districts of the Highlands and Islands of Scotland, Under Persecution, Tom 1

Przednia okładka
1828
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Strona 61 - And yet for all that, when they be in the land of their enemies, I will not cast them away, neither will I abhor them, to destroy them utterly, and to break my covenant with them : for I am the LORD their God.
Strona 78 - My slumbers — if I slumber — are not sleep, But a continuance of enduring thought, Which then I can resist not : in my heart There is a vigil, and these eyes but close To look within ; and yet I live, and bear 168 The aspect and the form of breathing men.
Strona 31 - My mother Earth ! And thou fresh breaking Day, and you, ye Mountains, Why are ye beautiful? I cannot love ye. And thou, the bright eye of the universe, That openest over all, and unto all Art a delight — thou shin'st not on my heart.
Strona 53 - Oh, that I were The viewless spirit of a lovely sound, A living voice, a breathing harmony, A bodiless enjoyment— born and dying With the blest tone which made me!
Strona 149 - Only the Lord had a delight in thy fathers to love them, and He chose their seed after them, even you above all people, as it is this day.
Strona 78 - But grief should be the instructor of the wise ; Sorrow is knowledge : they who know the most Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth, The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.
Strona 77 - ... tortures, and the touch of joy ; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being ; they become A portion of ourselves as of our time, And look like heralds of eternity ; They pass like spirits of the past...
Strona 77 - And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy ; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being...
Strona xx - Alastair, his Successor and Representative, in the year of our Lord 1812. The heads of the seven murderers were presented at the feet of the Noble Chief in Glengarry Castle, after having been washed in this Spring, and ever...
Strona 157 - The mists boil up around the glaciers; clouds Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury, Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell, Whose every wave breaks on a living shore, Heap'd with the damn'd like pebbles.— I am giddy.

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