Phonographic Stenography: Or, Short Hand Without a Master

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Smead & Cowles, 1846 - 76 páginas
 

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Página 86 - He who smote the people in wrath with a continual stroke, he that ruled the nations in anger, is persecuted, and none hindereth. The whole earth is at rest, and is quiet; they break forth into singing. Yea, the fir-trees rejoice at thee. and the cedars of Lebanon, saying, Since thou art laid down no feller is come up against us.
Página 86 - Hell from beneath is moved for thee to meet thee at thy coming ; it stirreth up the dead for thee, even all the chief ones of the earth; it hath raised up from their thrones all the kings of the nations.
Página 111 - Their glitt'ring baits, and purple slavery — Nor hopes the people's praise, nor fears their frown, Nor, when contending kindred tear the crown, Will set up one, or pull another down.
Página 73 - Perhaps I need scarce say that my defence shall be fearless, in a place where fear never entered any heart but that of a criminal.
Página 96 - Now far he sweeps, where scarce a summer smiles, On Behring's rocks, or Greenland's naked isles : Cold on his midnight watch the breezes blow, From wastes that slumber in eternal snow ; And waft, across the waves' tumultuous roar, The wolf's long howl from Oonalaska's shore.
Página 92 - Three hundred cannon-mouths roared loud, And from their throats with flash and cloud Their showers of iron threw. Beneath their fire in full career Rushed on the ponderous cuirassier, The lancer couched his ruthless spear, And hurrying as to havoc near The cohorts
Página 76 - Lord ; but where birth and fortune are united, we expect the noble pride and independence of a man of spirit, not the servile humiliating complaisance of a courtier. As to the goodness of his heart, if a proof of it be taken from the facility of never refusing, what...
Página 95 - To leave the bonnie banks of Ayr. Farewell, old Coila's hills and dales, Her heathy moors and winding vales ; The scenes where wretched fancy roves, Pursuing past, unhappy loves ! Farewell, my friends ! Farewell, my foes ! My peace with these, my love with those—- The bursting tears my heart declare, Farewell the bonnie banks of Ayr ! ELIZA* Tune —
Página 97 - When front to front the banner'd hosts combine, Halt ere they close, and form the dreadful line. When all is still on Death's devoted soil, The march-worn soldier mingles for the toil! As rings his glittering tube, he lifts on high The dauntless brow, and spirit-speaking eye, Hails in his heart the triumph yet to come, And hears thy stormy music in the drum!
Página 89 - Who would willingly possess genius? None, I am persuaded, who knew the misery it entails, its temperament producing continual irritation, destructive alike to health and happiness — and what are its advantages? — to be envied, hated, and persecuted in life, and libelled in death. Wealth may be pardoned (continued Byron), if its possessor diffuses it liberally; beauty may be forgiven provided it is accompanied by folly; talent may meet with toleration if it be not of a very superior order,165...

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