Letters on Demonology and Witchcraft

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A. and C. Black, 1882 - 387 страници
 

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Страница 68 - And sullen Moloch fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue ; In vain with cymbals' ring They call the grisly king, In dismal dance about the furnace blue : The brutish gods of Nile as fast, Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis, haste.
Страница 67 - The lonely mountains o'er, And the resounding shore, A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; From haunted spring and dale. Edged with poplar pale, The parting genius is with sighing sent; With flower-inwoven tresses torn. The nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn.
Страница 55 - There shall not be found among you any one that maketh his son or his daughter to pass through the fire, or that useth divination, or an observer of times, or an enchanter, or a witch, "Or a charmer, or a consulter with familiar spirits, or a wizard, or a necromancer.
Страница 42 - Labours with wilder shrieks, and rifer din Of hot pursuit, the broken cry of deer Mangled by throttling dogs, the shouts of men, And hoofs thick beating on the hollow hill.
Страница 45 - The doubling storm roars thro' the woods, The lightnings flash from pole to pole, Near and more near the thunders roll, When, glimmering thro' the groaning trees, Kirk-Alloway seem'd in a bleeze, Thro' ilka bore the beams were glancing, And loud resounded mirth and dancing. Inspiring bold John Barleycorn! What dangers thou canst make us scorn! Wi' tippenny, we fear nae evil; Wi' usquabae, we'll face the devil!
Страница 171 - Cis to milking rose, ..,,.. Then merrily went their tabor, And nimbly went their toes. Witness those rings and roundelays Of theirs, which yet remain, Were footed in Queen Mary's days On many a grassy plain ; But since of late Elizabeth...
Страница 38 - I speak, saw right before him, in a standing posture, the exact representation of his departed friend, whose recollection had been so strongly brought to his imagination. He stopped for a single moment, so as to notice the wonderful accuracy with which fancy had impressed upon the bodily eye, the peculiarities of dress, and position of the illustrious poet.
Страница 240 - How have I sat, when piped the pensive wind, To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung ! Prevailing poet ! whose undoubting mind Believed the magic wonders which he sung...
Страница 171 - Their dances were procession. But now, alas ! they all are dead, Or gone beyond the seas, Or farther for religion fled, Or else they take their ease.
Страница 67 - The oracles are dumb, No voice or hideous hum Runs through the arched roof in words deceiving. Apollo from his shrine Can no more divine, With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. No nightly trance, or breathed spell Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell.

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