The Witness of Art, Or the Legend of Beauty

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Hodder and Stoughton, 1876 - 214

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Strona 120 - Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Strona 113 - Yearning for the large excitement that the coming years would yield, Eager-hearted as a boy when first he leaves his father's field, And at night along the dusky highway, near and nearer drawn, Sees in heaven the light of London flaring like a dreary dawn...
Strona 75 - He heard it, but he heeded not, — his eyes Were with his heart, 'and that was far away. He recked not of the life he lost nor prize, But where his rude hut by the Danube lay, There were his young barbarians all at play, There was their Daci.an mother, — he, their sire, Butchered to make a Roman holiday! — All this rushed with his blood. — Shall he expire And unavenged? — Arise, ye Goths, and glut your ire!
Strona 129 - DAYBREAK A WIND came up out of the sea, And said, " O mists, make room for me." It hailed the ships, and cried, " Sail on, Ye mariners, the night is gone.
Strona 165 - They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms: Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide: They hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.
Strona 168 - The village smithy stands; The smith, a mighty man is he, With large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms Are strong as iron bands. His hair is crisp, and black, and long, His face is like the tan; His brow is wet with honest sweat, He earns whate'er he can, And looks the whole world in the face, For he owes not any man.
Strona 124 - It sees the ocean to its bosom clasp The rocks and sea-sand with the kiss of peace ; It sees the wild winds lift it in their grasp, And hold it up, and shake it like a fleece.
Strona 194 - I'd follow him ; But Oh ! — I'm not a fish-woman, And so I cannot swim. " Alas ! I was not born beneath The Virgin and the Scales, So I must curse my cruel stars, And walk about in Wales.
Strona 114 - Down the dark future, through long generations, The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease; And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace !" Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! But beautiful as songs of the immortals, The holy melodies of love arise.
Strona 154 - So spake he; and was buckling Tighter black Auster's band, When he was aware of a princely pair That rode at his right hand. So like they were, no mortal Might one from other know: White as snow their armour was: Their steeds were white as snow. Never on earthly anvil Did such rare armour gleam; And never did such gallant steeds Drink of an earthly stream.

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