The Howadji in Syria

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Dix, Edwards, 1856 - 350 страници
A travel memoir of an author dazzled by the sights and people of Syria. He describes the beauty of the scenery and the good, noble qualities of the people.
 

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Страница 283 - 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 vi - For us the winds do blow, The earth doth rest, heaven move, and fountains flow. Nothing we see but means our good, As our delight, or as our treasure ; The whole is either our cupboard of food, Or cabinet of pleasure.
Страница 174 - Tell ye the daughter of Sion, Behold, thy King cometh unto thee, meek, and sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass.
Страница 284 - And sullen Moloch, fled, Hath left in shadows dread His burning idol all of blackest hue; In vain with cymbals...
Страница 167 - Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth, is mount Zion, on the sides of the north, the city of the great King.
Страница 202 - And the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner.
Страница 287 - Ah! Then, if mine had been the Painter's hand, To express what then I saw, and add the gleam, The light that never was, on sea or land, The consecration, and the Poet's dream; I would have planted thee, thou hoary Pile Amid a world how different from this!
Страница 62 - AND the Lord appeared unto him in the plains of Mamre: and he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day ; and he lift up his eyes and looked, and, lo, three men stood by him...
Страница 167 - For this is he that was spoken of by the prophet Esaias, saying, The voice of one crying in the wilderness, Prepare ye the way of the Lord) make his paths straight.
Страница 283 - In consecrated earth, And on the holy hearth, The Lars and Lemures moan with midnight plaint ; In urns, and altars round, A drear and dying sound Affrights the flamens at their service quaint ; And the chill marble seema to sweat, While each peculiar Power forgoes his wonted seat.

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